The Sacred Somebody
by The Soup
Summary: To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. [AxelxRoxas]
1. Chapter 1

**You'll find no bird that sings,  
They all just sit and cry.  
The poor lover, how strongly he endures,  
For they separate him from his beloved. **

The sun, when it rises in the morning,  
Is like you, boy, when you are near me.  
When your dark eye turns upon me,  
It drives my reason from my head.

— Neçín of Përmet, son of Ali Pasha Frakulli, mid 19th century; tr. Nicholas Zymaris

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Axel x Roxas  
The Sacred Somebody  
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**Roxas was a stranger to everything.** That was that. There was nothing that he completely knew. Nothing truly familiar. Well, except maybe the magic of the hot shower he was about to take….

He was a stranger to the Organization, though, to his new daily rituals, the meetings, the building, the people, and the food in the Mess Hall. When he first donned the black robes and became Number Thirteen he didn't know who it was staring back at him through the mirror. It was like he was losing who he really was; everything about his identity seemed like an ugly smear across the tapestry of reality.

Although it was his reflection, it was somebody Roxas didn't want to be. Somebody he couldn't stand to see there in front of him… Somebody who's eyes sparkled with unfathomable melancholy. Somebody very lonely, forlorn, and in search of something. Lost and alone in this life they call nothing.

Hadn't it always been that way? For Roxas, yes. Everyday was like that. Full of questions. Emptiness. Fear. Sadness. Everytime he haunted himself with a mirror, it resurrected recent histories Roxas knew all too well. Scrounging around the city to scrap a living…. Living outdoors and sleeping in the rain and mud…. Working odd jobs for low pay just to eat for a day… If he didn't earn even a single piece of munny, Roxas starved for the night and sometimes weeks.

Despite how reclusive he tried to be, no matter how isolated he was, his petty existence was a threat to somebody. Even though he never talked to any body he still had enemies. Although Roxas had absolutely nothing worth pilfering the "others" regularly beat him until he could barely move. He would lay helplessly on the ground as a bloody heap, bruises the circumference of a baseball limiting the use of limbs, his deep wounds copiously bleeding as he looked at the stars bleary-eyed as though for an answer. Eventually the hostility of the others got so treacherous Roxas was forced to migrate to the seedier parts of the city, just to live to see another day which he was never sure he'd ever see again.

When he came to his new neighborhood, he would take residence in some dark alley, sleeping in the rain on a bed made of cardboard boxes and dirty torn sheets with pillows of crumbled newspapers and old shoes. Then, life would proceed with an absurd fidelity to repetition.

That was the way of survival he had learned to thrive with. Life had always been as hateful and rough to Roxas since as long he could remember. He never had anything else.

Until that day he met a member of the Organization.

He was chasing a dachshund named Rufus he had been walking for ten munny through the park. The dog's leash had slipped from his hands when Roxas had bent down to tie his shoe. The mischievous little pooch spotted a squirrel and chased it into the woods, disappearing into the darkness. Roxas looked up briskly, only to see the dog's tail flicker into the shadows. He leapt to his feet and ran into the woods, calling Rufus in vain. He ducked and weaved his way through the dense woods, hurdling overgrown roots with amazing agility that he didn't know he possessed. To add on to the situation of the disaster, Roxas had only about two more hours of daylight to search the already-dark woods.

His breath came in shallow pants as his brow dripped with sweat. He felt as though he'd just ran a marathon and was stilling running it. But the woods seemed like they were never going to end. Trees flung themselves at Roxas almost like he were in a state of vertigo and he felt dizzy and light-headed. His stomach ached with hunger. His head throbbed with a migraine as the cold shot straight into Roxas' nostrils, burning ruthlessly with the chilly air. He thighs burned with the exercise, his muscles feeling like gelatin.

He had to rest. He was going to keel over if he didn't sit down. Stumbling a few more feet, Roxas entered a clearing at last. There, in the middle of the clearing, sat a lone stump of a once great oak. It was as tall as Roxas' kneecaps, wide as small swimming pool, and as long as small cot. Roxas soughed in relief, thanking the greater powers that be for a convenient blessing. He slowly lowered himself down onto the stump, loving that it was rather comfy. Almost too comfy. Roxas sighed, his eyelids feeling heavy. He closed his eyes and was met with instantaneous comfort. He was beginning to feel pleasantly drowsy, but he mustn't fall asleep.

Well, maybe a quick little catnap would be fine. Roxas smiled at himself as he lay down on the stump… He felt the impending sleep coming to him. His breathing became deeper and relaxed, his heartbeat turned steady as he listened to the last lullabies of distant songbirds.

**Roxas awoke with a jolt in the cold night.** He sat upright, eyes wide with the realization that the sun was completely gone from the sky and that the full, golden moon loomed overhead in its place. Roxas glanced about his area. Which way did he come from? All the woods looked exactly the same in the eerie moonlight that poured through the clearing. Roxas calmed down, becoming more aware of the drop in the temperature around him as he saw his breath in the frigid night air.

He brought his hands to his face and inclined on his knees as he sat there shaking off the last groggy bits of slumber. Once he gathered all of his pieces Roxas stood up from the stump and stretched his limbs, yawning while shivering. Goosebumps traveled up along his spine and neck as his teeth started to chatter.

Why had the winder descended so quickly? Roxas swore it was only the first day of autumn yesterday, remembering how he raked up the gold, brown and maroon leaves in somebody's back yard for fifteen munny. His hands still bore the blisters of that labor.

Roxas shuddered from the intensifying cold. He crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his forearms with his palms.

The moonlight glowed across the ground like sapphirine ice, frost twinkling off leaves and other parts of the woods that made up the clearing. Roxas, although disoriented from sleep, randomly decided which direction he would boldly go.

He used the moon as a guiding orb of light in the sky, following it wherever it led him. Hopefully, back towards the city. True, only part of Roxas wanted to go back to the unloving streets. The otherside of him wished that the lunar sphere had plotted out a much more hospitable destination than the loathsome cement jungle.

No matter. He was obliged to accept whatever path lay before him.

Roxas stepped his way through the forest, cautiously proceeding with absolute stealth.

**_This isn't the direction I came from. _**

Roxas was standing at the end of the wood, far away from any sign of city life. The moon hung low in the sky, almost like it was about to drop onto the lush green field Roxas found himself in. The horizon seemed closer to the ground, now that nothing obstructed it from its earth brother. A ribbon of stars, peppering the cloak of velvet midnight, seemed to be kissing the waves of the vast emerald sea of grass that sprawled out beyond his feet, farther than Roxas could see.

It was like being in the middle of a tranquil nowhere, surrounding by nature and enraptured by continual silence.

Roxas had never been in such a place. He had always been in amidst the thunder of modern life, with the jostling of the morning business men arguing over cellphones and the chaotic noise of rush hour, when all the cars started lining up and the people started bickering. The almost divine respite from the pain of everyday life was a blessing Roxas would forever hold dear. He closed his eyes, tilting his head upwards as he inhaled the freshest air ever to fill his lungs.

The mood of relaxation was quickly destroyed when a loud snapping of a stick in the woods aroused Roxas' senses. His ears gave a little perk as he tossed his head about his shoulders to check. His eyes scanned the bulky darkness behind him that shrank in the immense moonlight. Nothing was there.

Then there was a sharp rustling of wind that tore Roxas' attentions away from the shadowy wood back at the moonlit field.

Roxas' heart jumped violently in his throat as he partially failed to suppress a gasp.

Before him was a man, in a black hooded robe that seemed to meld effortlessly with the night sky horizon. The hood was drawn. Roxas couldn't see his face.

"Who…who are you?" Roxas asked, his voice wavering slightly.

The man in black hunched his back like a wild cat, shoulders flexing as he forcefully flung his arms out to his sides, the small silver charms on his pull-strings tinkling softly. His gloved fingers curled back, his hands resembling claws of a nightmare creature.

Roxas stiffened in awareness.

"Defend yourself."

"Huh?" Roxas was thunderstruck. _Did he just say something? _

The ominous figure cracked his fingers once and two rings of fire spiraled into existence from nothingness, one mysterious ring in each of his palms.

_What are those things?_

The living shadow jerked awkwardly, striking a pose with his weird bladed weapon.

There was a pause. Roxas stopped breathing.

Before Roxas could make a fist at his side, the cloaked figure blurred across the night sky like heat waves rising from the desert sands. The mirage blended all at once and the man was gone in a flash.

Roxas instinctively crouched, raising his palm up and out away from his body as a sort of defensive. The invisible man suddenly reappeared above Roxas no later than half a second after Roxas went down, bringing his bladed ring down like Thor's hammer.

Roxas quickly shut his eyes, fearing the impact. His fingers twitched and he felt the weapon hit something hard that he now clasped. Something like a rod….

Roxas opened his eyes suddenly there was a strange item in his grasp. A large sword-like key-shaped object with a yellow hilt with a keychain and silver blade, glittering with sparks of light.

"What? What is this thing?" Roxas exclaimed.

The hooded man bounced back a few feet and stood in a spontaneous limp fighting stance that made Roxas think of a marionette on strings.

"It's the Keyblade," The man hissed, his voice stinging Roxas on the inside like acid. "And it's time you learned how to…." He leapt forward, brandishing his unique weaponry elegantly across his chest. "…USE IT!"

Roxas blocked the hooded figure with the whole of the Keyblade and then slashed forward, clenching the hilt tightly. He twirled the Key with unknown skill and then charged at the stunned man for no true reason. Roxas felt like he was losing himself to this man – not the battle, but rather his identity. He exploded with a war cry he never knew he had in him, his eyes flaring dangerously with furious determination. What was happening to him?

The man slashed upwards and knocked the Keyblade back a few inches. The hooded shadow caught Roxas across the chest, creating a bleeding gash that soaked blood through his shirt. Roxas recoiled slightly and then retaliated quickly, jabbing the man in the gut with a quick evasive spin on his feet to dodge the blow and then strike back. Roxas rose his Keyblade and brought it down in vertical slices, five times in fast succession against the bladed rings that were held up in a block. He then changed patterns and added a sudden horizontal slash that the man scarcely missed. Roxas jerked up to thrust the blade at the man's shoulder. The man sidestepped in time to miss him, catching Roxas by Keyblade's staff with one of his bladed rings' midsection and then twisting upwards, flinging Roxas aside along with his weapon.

Roxas soared through the air in backflips and then went down – hard. His Keyblade landing beside him, he crashed to the ground, landing painfully on his shoulder, his knees knocking together as they hit the dirt, and his head bouncing. He heard something crack, felt something crunch. He yelped in agony, inhaling through clenched teeth. His chest felt constricted as he breathed, whimpering and panting from the combat high. Pain racked Roxas' body, searing through him like javelins with most shockwaves focused in the middle of Roxas' shoulder that took a beating and the gash across his chest. Roxas tried to get up but was too weak and in so much agony that moving a single inch felt like hell. He must've fractured something, maybe even broke it.

Roxas was in tears. Once more he felt helpless, lying in front of his attacker like fresh meat.

The moon was gone and the stars were dissolving into gold and crimson streaks as rays of sun shone over the forest. The last sunrise… this was the end. His tears silently rolled down his cheeks as once more he felt the calls of slumber beckoning to him.

"You did well for your first time," The hooded figure said, almost as though he was trying to comfort him. The once acidic tone seemed softer. "Don't cry, Roxas."

Roxas let go of the present moment. He blacked out.

_How do you know my name?_

**The morning was unforgiving. **The light burned Roxas'eyes as they slowly fluttered open. He winced as he used his eyes alone to take in his surroundings.

A white room. A white bed. White bloodstained bandages across his naked chest, also wrapping his extremely painful shoulder. He noticed he wasn't in his clothes from yesterday. He was wearing black jeans and nothing that remained of his daily rags.

Somebody had changed his clothes.

His eyesight was still a bit blurry as he saw a black humanoid-shape standing before him. He wearily struggled to sit up on his elbow, feeling an awareness zap through him when he tried to sit up all the way. He sucked air through his teeth in an expression of pain that brought his surveyor's attention to him.

"You move, and it will hurt more than it needs to." His voice sent chills through Roxas' body that made his wounds twitch, sending an uncomfortable twinge from his fractured shoulder. "You have been through much."

"Where…am I?" Roxas managed to say before a wave of pain shot through him, impeding his speech. "Ahh—"

"Where you belong, Roxas, with those who are exactly like you." The man drawled, with a hypnotic sort of tone floating about his words.

"What?" Roxas shook his head to get rid of the remainder of his deep sleep. Before him stood a black-robed man, without his hood on. Roxas could not imagined how this man did it, but he noticed that stranger had almost a golden highlight to his tan flesh. Roxas marveled at the sight of the man's naturally silver hair that trailed a few inches below his shoulders, three locks of hair standing up like wispy, feathery peacock crests on his head. But what drew in Roxas was the fact the man was inspecting him intently with almost feral orange eyes that resembled a demon's.

"Ever wondered why you were so different? Why you never fit in? Why you were always so alone?"

Roxas glanced off at the floor fixedly. He nodded solemnly.

The man almost smirked. "I have all the answers, Roxas. For one thing, I already know your name."

Roxas looked up at the enigmatic man. "Who are you?"

"I am Xemnas, Leader of the Organization." Xemnas said, simply yet with a fierce power that made Roxas think of a lion's roar. "I have come to set you free from the suffering you once called your life."

**Outside his memories, Roxas slowly undressed in the quiet and deserted men's showering room.** He unzipped his billowing black robe and slid it off his arms, dropping it in a pile by his towel on the bench. He pulled off his black gloves by the fingers and tossed them aside on top his robe. He yanked off his ebony long sleeved shirt, letting it float to the floor at his feet. His chest was still wrapped in bandages with dark crimson splotches and his shoulder still tingled in slight discomfort.

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in serenity. He was feeling lighter, like he had just lifted a large weight off his shoulder.

Roxas opened his eyes while he began to unbutton his black pants. He looked up into one of the high windows that lined the walls. The full moon was a sliver pearl again, much like the moon the day he had arrived at the Organization. He couldn't believe it. A full moon meant that it had been twenty-eight days since he became Number Thirteen. Exactly four weeks as a noob. Four weeks of having a second chance. Four weeks to prove himself.

Four weeks of loneliness. That was one thing that still needed to change. Most of the older members ignored him since he was the new guy, while others didn't even know he existed. He still had no friends but at least he didn't have enemies.

That he knew of, anyway.

The moon's shine had Roxas feeling oddly entranced.

Something was going to happen. A big change in his life. All thanks to the moon.

The moon, after all, was the only light in the whole washroom. The brilliant lunar orb spilled blue light on all the showerheads that protruded out of the walls. With the light illuminating the washroom in whole, Roxas was reminded exactly why he was about to take a shower at ten thirty-seven at night.

The way everything was arranged left no margin for privacy. Everybody stood abreast of each other in close quarters and there was nothing separating them from one another. You could stand on one side of the row, tilt your head slightly, and with your peripheral vision see roughly six examples of adult male virility.

Roxas didn't appreciate anyone watching him taking a shower. It felt to him like he was being judged. Measured. Compared and contrasted.

It was seriously uncomfortable for him, and he'd rather no be placed in such situations.

When Roxas found out that all members of the Organization were to report to bed at ten p.m. sharp, he was relieved. Finally he could avoid the stares of the other men while not being too suspicious.

Roxas gave the moon a smile as he took off his pants and stripped off his boxers. He quickly kicked off his boots and shed his socks. He was now completely nude, except for the bloody bandages he carefully began unraveling. The gauze fabric gently inched across his tender wound, the flesh sore from the onset of an infection he had been fighting for the last few days. His chest bore a large gaping gash that was a scabbed mass along the sides and an aqueous deep crimson in the middle of it, with spots of yellowish pus that inhabited the edges of his itchy scabs. The wound was a dark and gruesome sight, and Roxas felt shamed by it because it was another reason that he avoided showering with the others.

It was a reminder of his weakness, a warning of how easily he could be victimized.

He didn't want anybody to know about it and the only people who knew about it would be the actual person who struck the blow and probably Xemnas. Maybe not Xemnas, but he saw Roxas in bandages so he was included.

Roxas removed the rest of the gauze from his shoulder and laid the bandages with the rest of his clothing on the pile on the bench. He looked down at his body and arms, noticing the moonlight was giving him an ethereal radiance, almost like the aura of an otherworldly existence. The sight made him feel empowered with an unknown energy surging through him. It felt like the moonlight gave him power, as though he could soak up the moon's glow and be healed to full health.

In happy solitude, Roxas walked over to the shower behind him. He reached out, turned the singular knob clockwise for a hot shower, and then pulled out. The water rushed out of the showerhead with a steamy cascade that splashed onto Roxas' head and shoulders, tendrils of warmth curling around his waist and legs and splattering onto the tiled floor.

The heat was intense, like a cleansing fire that burned across his flesh, turning it ruddy, warming his every inch. The steam cleared Roxas' nose as he breathed in the invisible scent of hot water. He closed his eyes, reveling in the hot patter of water prickling across his infected wound, down his chest and neckline. He felt his hair grow limp in the downpour, feeling his own spikes bow underneath the power of the flowing water as they fell across his brows wantonly. He reached his hands up and cupped his face, catching water and then slicking his wilted spikes back.

Roxas felt all his troubles wash away in the water flow, watching them leave him forever in tornadoes going down the drain at his feet.

The door to the washroom squeaked opened, then slammed thunderously.

Roxas jumped at the noise, his eyes wide with dull fear.

_No! I've been found out!_

He frantically began searching the room for an escape route when he heard something else.

"Hey," A voice. So oddly familiar.

Roxas tried to wipe his fears away and disguise them as bold intrigue. It mostly worked.

Roxas was incredulous. Someone else was here to take a late night shower? No, he was the only one. Everybody else bathed together except that one female…. At least that's what he thought.

He turned his head, forgetting that his eyes might reveal how timid he truly felt. He was a bit thrown off when he saw a tall man staring at him dumbfoundedly. Roxas felt translucent when the man's vibrant green eyes, speckled with flecks of blue, narrowed softly at the sight of him standing there equally shocked. His complexion reminded Roxas of a marble statue sculpted with expertise, topped with a unique spiked hairstyle of flaming crimson that stuck out like the rays of an artistic Aztec sun.

Roxas had never seen someone so different from all the others. Everything about this man seemed to clash with the basic image Roxas had sketched about all members of the Organization. The man's almond-shaped eyes were naturally adorned with delicate upturned lashes that gave them an elegant, exotic and angular look. The rest of the man screamed of bold audacity; Roxas noticed he had two small, black vertical dashes painted under each eye, bringing to mind suspended teardrops.

The man broke out into a grin. "Guess I'm not the only one up past their bedtime."

"Y-yeah…." Roxas tore his gaze away from the stranger. What had gotten into him? It was impolite to stare, but yet…. Roxas didn't really consider different being the new beautiful. He was always different and ashamed because of it. But this man…. This man seemed like he had nothing to fear with nothing to lose, like he could care less about everything. He was fearless. Bold. Didn't give a damn what others thought of him.

Roxas envied his courage.

The man immediately started stripping off his all black clothing, without any shame that Roxas was standing right there. Even the man in the nude was bold; he had a pierced nipple, battle scars, stitches, and red-black gothic tattoos of strange designs all across his hardened, well-defined pectoral and abdominal muscles. Roxas' mouth drooped slightly agape at the sight of the stranger's firm deltoids, biceps, and triceps that gave him a chiseled appeal. Although the awkward desire was there, he dared not look at the full detail of the mythic god's powerful thighs, no matter how muscular and tense.

Roxas shook himself out of his admiration of the beautifully different man.

_What the hell am I doing?_

He turned away from the redheaded stranger, keeping his back towards him. He adverted his gaze. He didn't want to look back into those eyes again and turn green from envy over the fact that he was insecure and the fellow Organization member dared the world to say anything about him.

"Man, I've been up all night!" The redhead yawned, placing his pile of garments on the bench only a few paces from Roxas' stuff. "Y'know, late night studying and such is enough to make you drill a hole in your skull for entertainment."

Roxas slowly nodded his head in agreement.

The stranger turned on the shower one down from Roxas and started up the water on the hottest setting. Steam engulfed him, surrounding him as his Aztec sun spikes lost volume and flattened, giving the man somewhat long hair and a bittersweet overtone of androgyny.

Roxas kept to himself as he started soaping his arms up, avidly trying to banish thoughts of the redheaded androgyne's rippling muscles and seemingly divine body.

The green-eyed intruder eyed Roxas ponderously. The adolescent's face was the saddest thing he had ever seen. He knew he caught the corner of his eye when the boy granted him an intent glimpse with deep sapphire orbs, as though he were trying to inspect him without him knowing. The man smiled. How cute.

"You're the new kid right?" The stranger asked, voiced peaked with interest.

"Mmmm-hmm…" Roxas nodded.

"Name's Axel," The man thrusted his hand out for a hand shake. "Yours?"

"Roxas…"

"Roxas..." Axel repeated, flicking his tongue across his lips as though tasting the sound of his name. "Fabulous having you on the team."

Roxas turned to Axel, then timidly gave his hand a weak little shake. "Uh, great to be here."

Axel's eye gave a slight twitch of intrigue. "Excellent…" When Roxas let go, Axel found himself suddenly wanting to be his friend. The moment their fingers slipped apart Axel felt something inside him flinch. "Yeah, there's some things you'll have to get used to and—–" His eyes drifted from Roxas' blue gems down his neck like quicksilver. Suddenly he gasped from the sight of Roxas' healing wound. "What happened to your chest?"

Roxas snapped out of his thoughts of admiration and envy.

_No! _

Abruptly he brought his arms over his chest, trying to hide the wound like a nude woman shielding her breasts from peeping toms. A hot blush burned under his eyes as he looked away from Axel over to the benches. He squeezed himself tightly as he closed his eyes in acute shame.

"I…" He stammered feebly. "I was in a fight and… I lost."

Axel's eyebrows furrowed with a shock resembling fear. "Lemme see." He murmured, mostly to himself. He slowly reached out towards Roxas' arms.

"No!" Roxas squirmed away from Axel's long, slender fingers as they wrapped around his wrist. He suddenly felt warmth burning across his flesh; A rippling heat licking at him like a raging fire, frightening him as his mind poured with images of red flames burning on the dark horizon; a whole forest of trees being consumed in flames.

"Let me take a look!" Axel shoved Roxas' hands aside, Roxas obliging with a whimper.

The images were gone.

Axel gasped at the horrible sight of Roxas' infected scabbed mass forming a diagonal slash across his chest. He couldn't believe it… Here, this boy had been carrying on with his new recruit training all this time, with a wound that kept reopening. This boy had been caring for it this whole time. On his own. Without stitches.

Axel, all though feeling bad for the boy, was impressed.

"You need to clean out the infection," said Axel. He hunched down to Roxas' level, his eyes fixed. He started gingerly brushing the tips of his fingers along the linearity of the cut. Roxas' flesh flinched from his touch, feeling like he was drawing nearer and nearer a lit candle. He sucked air through his teeth as Axel prodded the darker crimson.

Axel continued exploring the inside of the wound, careful not to reopen the gigantic scab. "I suggest you take some antibiotics and maybe you should take some daily vitamin supplements. That should help this heal faster."

"Ah—!" Roxas gasped. Axel gently began scraping the edges of the wound with his immaculate fingernails. Even though it was slightly painful, the wound's itch was melting away. Soon Roxas found himself ignoring the pain and enjoying the relief of Axel scratching his painful itch.

"Roxas," Axel said, looking back into his eyes and standing straight.

Roxas met his gaze with moist eyes agleam as he jarred out of the misty ravine of sensation. "Yes?"

"Be careful next time there's a fight."

"Huh?"

"Don't your guard down, but," Axel started to smile. "if you don't think you can do it alone…You can always go find me. I'll be your friend when there are only enemies."

Roxas blinked in astonishment. Was Axel for real? A friend when there are only enemies? What the heck was that supposed to mean? Whatever. All Roxas knew for sure was that he had just made a friend.

His life was changing. It was already better.

Thanks to the moon.

Roxas smiled, his face aglow. "T-thank you, Axel…I-I've never had a friend before."

"Well then I'm the lucky first!"

Roxas and Axel shared a hearty laugh, as Roxas felt his eyes burn with tears of joy for the first in his life. Happy tears. The kind one should always cry.

Axel beamed at the sight of tearful Number Thirteen smiling with silent tears trickling down his pink cheeks. Those were the words he wanted to say since he saw Roxas at the acceptance ceremony that commemorated him becoming Number Thirteen. Then, Roxas was a distant and drifting soul, lost to the present. He seemed so mellow, so hallowed inside, Axel knew he needed a friend.

In fact, Axel was pretty much the same way when he first joined, but that was long ago. He felt a strange connection to the newest member, like he could completely relate to him. Like he understood the adolescent's thoughts, his swirling loneliness.

Roxas looked into Axel's eyes; his sapphires ignited some sort of fire in Axel's emeralds. His smile warmed Axel's innards, filling the void that ate away at him.

Axel hadn't felt this way before. It was new… It was alien…It felt like—if his memory wasn't failing him—like having a heart again.

Roxas was Axel's heart from that day on.

The door slammed open with a bang. The two odd ducks snapped their heads up to see another man running into the shower like a crazed blur.

"Woooooooo!" The man tore off his clothes, flung them at the walls, and twisted on the shower between Axel and Roxas. He vigorously began scrubbing his hair, sighing loudly with cleansed relief. "Wooooaaaahhhh, yeah!" He slicked his limp hair back and smiled a toothy open-mouthed snarl at Axel. "Dude! Were you at the party? Man, there were all these chicks in the itsy-bitsy bikinis! Bar-be-que! Booze!"

Axel gave an annoyed smirk that twisted his face horribly. "Noooo, unlike some drunken dip-tard I know, I was busy studying for the JPSTs!"

Roxas twitched an eyebrow. " 'JPST'?"

"Job Placement Standardized Test. Makes sure that everybody knows their job and how to do it." Axel replied, eyeing the blond-headed man before him with vex. "If you fail, they eliminate you from the Organization."

Roxas gulped nervously.

Axel smiled. "No worries, buddy. You're still green. That means you're safe until after three months of quote unquote employment." He made a gesture with two peace signs that resembled quotation marks. "You're off the hook for now."

"Geez, Axel," the rowdy blonde rolled his eyes. "You're the last guy I'd ever think actually cared about grades."

"I don't." said Axel. "It's just I don't plan on my ass being grass."

The blonde sputtered his lips, splashing Axel with spit. "Puh-leeeaasseee, they're not gonna can me."

"Watch' em." Axel snapped. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"Yeaaahhh, right," The drunkard hazily glanced around, giggling stupidly. His drunken smirk melted clear off his face at the sight of the blushing little boy standing behind him. "Hey, who's this guy?"

"The new kid on the block, Roxas," Axel answered with an indescribable air to his words that chilled Roxas' guts. For some reason Roxas felt uncomfortable in under the redhead's heated gaze.

The slightly inebriated giggle box simpered. "Well, ain't it a pleasure?" He had a delayed blink. "I'm Demyx. Maybe you've heard of me?"

Roxas shook his head. "No, sorry."

Demyx gave a shallow frown. "Damn, guess you're a virgin—"

_What! Of course I'm a virgin! Just because I'm alone in the shower, with an older man late at night, with his hands on my chest, doesn't mean we boinked!_

"—It's sad you don't know how great I am. I'll have to give the one-oh-one about my musical greatness! Trust me, you'll never forget your first time!"

_Whew! That's a relief! Wait…what?_

"Yeah, I could whip it out right now and show you how to play with it!"

Roxas wasn't about to admit that the inebriated blondie was scaring him. "Uh, excuse… me…?"

Axel firmly placed his hand on Demyx's shoulder. "Ahhhh, Demyx, you don't need to do that. He doesn't need to see you play the devil's clarinet."

"Huh?" Roxas blinked. _I don't wanna learn how to play with my—!_

"But it's reaaaaallllyyyy easy! He could learn –" Demyx snapped his fingers. "—like that!"

Axel snickered. _That wasn't what I was talking about…_

"Easy as pie, I'm sure, but look. Just look, look -- look at him. LOOK AT HIM." Axel grabbed Demyx by the shoulders, shook him a bit, and then turned around to face a blushing Roxas, who turned his face away from the sight of Demyx's man sausage. "Does he _honestly_ look like he's got even the raw skill you had as a newb?"

"Uhhhhhh—" Demyx droned.

"I'll take that as a no."

Demyx nodded. His eyes dropped to Roxas. Then, his sluggish thinking process suddenly got his brain juices churning. "Hey!" He exclaimed, rather unnecessarily. "I could give you music lessons, Roxas! We could then be buddies and really wow the crowd as a killer duet!"

_Why is he trying to be my friend? _

"S-sure, Demyx. Sounds cool," Roxas smiled. He tried to look at him with one eye opened and avoiding the fact that Demyx was slightly taller than he was.

Roxas ignored Demyx and grabbed the bottle of generic brand-X shampoo off the community shelf, squirting a decent amount in his palm and slapping onto his scalp. He began lathering it into a mountain of bubbles, in total disbelief that he had friends. The first ever. Dude, it was like a dream Roxas didn't want to wake up from.

But he would wake up someday.

Axel leaned to the side from Demyx's back. "Hey, could you hand me the shampoo?" He asked, quickly adding, "Please?"

Roxas grabbed the bottle. "Here you go."

Axel took it. "Thanks."

Roxas nodded, rinsing out the soap from his hair.

"Say, Roxas." Demyx mused.

"Yeah?"

"Do you drink?"

"N-no…I'm only fifteen."

"Watch porn?"

"No! Who do you think I am?" Roxas snapped, blushing. "I'm just a kid from the streets! You actually think I have _access_ to that kind of stuff?"

"Hmmm…." Demyx frowned slightly. "I guess you're more of a virgin than I thought." He paused. "I'm going to break you in, starting tonight."

"WHAT?" screeched Roxas. "Dude, that's just wrong!"

"Roxas, chill baby. Take a pill." Axel said, nonchalantly rinsing out his shampoo from his hair. "He's talking about making you a man, not picking your cherry."

"M-m-my cherry?" Roxas was flabbergasted. "Wha-what's that?"

"Your virginity." Axel said it like was nothing, like something said over a cup of coffee.

Roxas felt his stomach drop to his ankles. Suddenly, he flushed red and hastily shut his shower off.

Axel snorted slightly at Roxas walking off. "Man, you're so easy."

He shot him a look that made Axel swallow his tongue.

Roxas glared…and then grinned. "It's been a blast, but I think I've wasted enough water," He said, snatching up his towel and drying his hair.

Axel smiled at the sight of Roxas' spikes attaining their regular volume. He liked how his spikes swept off like feathered wisps in an upward-counterclockwise style, like the wings of a pinwheel. The moonlight gave his cocoa-blonde a mesmerizing glow that Axel found rather alluring.

Roxas wrapped the towel around his waist, gathering his clothes up his arms. He waved at Number Eight and Nine. "See you later!"

The other members turned around to bid farewell.

Demyx grinned. "Yup! Later!"

Axel nodded his head. "Tomorrow?"

For what?" asked Roxas.

"I dunno…. Stuff?" Axel shrugged. "Uh…Arcade?"

Roxas was confused. "We're allowed to do that kind of stuff?"

Demyx shrank. He hissed at Axel, "Ooooohhhh noooo, you're not actually thinking you're—"

Axel's eyes wandered around the ceiling. "Not really…"

"Will we get in trouble?" asked Roxas.

Axel felt a triple dozen needles poke his skin. He couldn't lie, not to a face like that… "Yeah…" He replied, nervously. "But! That's only if they find out!"

"'If'?" Roxas repeated, his eyebrow cocked.

"If…! If is good!" Axel perked.

"I don't know…." Roxas held his chin in thought.

"Hey, if you have plans, y'know, I understand –it was a bit impromptu…" Axel said. "I mean, I've still got studies to get over with, but after I crack the book spines I don't have much else… So…I was wondering…"

Roxas replied with a beam. "Sure! What else can I do? I haven't gotten any orders from the top so I'm free until we rendezvous for PT."

Demyx inserted, "That's a whole week from now…" He grabbed Axel by the hair.

"AH!" Axel was pulled to the corner, gritting his teeth in discomfort.

"Excuse us for a second…." Demyx grinned, ushering Axel over to the wall where the water was still running.

"Yeah, sure." Roxas nodded. He would wait patiently.

Over in the corner, Demyx let go of Axel's flattened spikes. Axel immediately flung himself in Demyx's face, spazzing out.

"What was that for?" He barked, low so that Roxas couldn't hear him.

Demyx shoved a finger at Axel's nose. "Don't…" He jabbed him with his finger. "…get too friendly with the boy."

"Why not? He's lonely."

Axel feared the sight of Demyx's opal blue eyes becoming lidded. He was regarding him with an odd look, looking very skeptical of Axel's reply. More like excuse.

Demyx heaved a sigh. His tone and gaze softened. "But you and I both know what he can do… what with the otherside of him still running about, swinging that Keyblade like it's a toy."

Axel rolled his eyes.

Demyx grabbed him by the shoulders. "He's a threat, Axel!"

Axel wasn't amused. His eyebrows inclined. His green-blue emeralds narrowed slightly. His once warm voice became hard and spicy, like white-hot iron pressing to flesh. "That's some talk coming from a suddenly sober drunk."

"I mean it!" Demyx's face flashed with unyielding determination. "Getting close to him means letting down your guard. You honestly think he's completely forgotten about his other?"

Axel's eyes shifted downwards, reflecting a side of the fire demon many never knew existed. Solemn. Sincere. Zealous.

"You're just going to have to learn to trust him." He spoke his words with silent passion. "I do."

Axel closed his eyes as he felt his cheeks becoming warm.

Demyx looked like he had just been slapped across the face. His eyes quivered slightly as the shock of Axel's words, of him blushing. He was aghast.

"Axel…." Demyx said, almost pacifyingly and yet at the same time full of disbelief. "No, you can't. Not so soon…. Don't tell me you—" Demyx's words faded when he noticed how Axel was reacting. He tried to force himself a laugh but it died in a split second.

Axel never looked Demyx in the face. He sighed in surrender. He brought his hand up to his neck, closing his eyes. "I don't have the memories of it because it's never happened to me before, but I think this is what it must be like."

Demyx paled. His eyes sunk into his pallid visage.

"Nooooo. No, no. Axel, it just doesn't make sense…. How can you… Seriously? Really?" He snorted, curling his lips. "Today you tripped over him?" Demyx arched his eyebrows, clearly worried for his superior and friend.

Axel shook his head. "No. The day I first saw him, I fell flat on my face."

**Roxas stood there, keeping his word.** He would wait patiently for his elders to decide what was best for him. He loved the idea that people were actually caring for him in the sense that he had always played the parent in his own life for so long. He would eagerly do anything his elders asked of him, especially if one of those elders happened to Axel.

Roxas found himself silently pledging loyalty to the beautifully different man with the head of fire and eyes of precious green gemstones. To him, Axel seemed like a candle in the darkness, lending him light in the darkest parts of the world. He found his glow the perfect source of light. He would only survive his second chance of life by not being alone, and he preferred being led by the hand by a kind veteran of the way things worked. Axel seemed so cock-sure on everything. The way he spoke of the future three months Roxas would endure brimmed with confidence, something Roxas truly admired.

Yes, here he would wait for the elders to finish discussing his future, whatever events Axel and Demyx foretold for him. He felt the seed of loyalty Axel had implanted inside him begin to grow.

Waiting…. He would always wait for the man who was unobtainably unique. He had no problems with that.

No matter what. He made that promise then.

He kept that promise until the end.

_Why is it so private? I wanna eavesdrop, but they're right there in front of me. It would be way too obvious…right? Not to mention the lowest of low. And I don't want to go so low they won't recognize me…_

Over by Demyx, Axel nodded his head. Demyx started talking in an inaudible twitter, gesticulating and closing his eyes to emphasize his point. Axel's eye wandered away from Number Nine and looked dead at Roxas.

A slow smile took flight on his face.

Roxas smiled back.

Demyx snapped forward at Axel and he wiped the smile off his face, giving him his full attention.

After a few more minutes, Axel and Demyx returned from the corner and returned to their places under the cascade of the showerheads that were still on, pouring cold water instead of hot.

_Man, I'm glad I won't be charged with the high water bill._

Axel rubbed his palms together. "Alrighty, it's decided. Roxas, you and I will be playing hooky."

"And I will be your cover-up! I'll watch your backs while you have some fun." Demyx asserted, pointing at his own chest with his thumb. "You can count on me."

Roxas nodded. "Right." He turned to Axel, and asked, "What time?"

Axel panicked. "Opps. We didn't plan that."

"How 'bout after lunch?"

"That'll work."

Roxas smiled. "I'll be waiting…"

**The next day, they were serving cheeseburgers and French fries, with a sliced dill pickle and a bag of potato chips and a can of Pepsi. **Roxas grimaced. His stomach was beating the crap out of him.

_Did Axel say I could eat?_

If that fiery redhead was planning to eat somewhere else, Roxas didn't want to spoil his plans. That's just plain mean. He sat at his table alone, looking into his squiggly reflection that shone across the freshly cleaned table.

Lord knows how hungry he was. It hurt so bad to be hungry, after twenty-nine days of a full belly. He forgot how it felt to be starving again.

Roxas laid his forehead. He was trying to ignore his stomach pains.

And he was failing. Terribly.

A rustle before him; the feeling of weight rocking the table. Roxas tilted his head slightly.

Demyx took the seat in front of him, sliding his lunch tray over.

"Hay-lo! Dude," He took his hand and felt Roxas' forehead. "You don't look so good. You feeling alright?"

"…Not really."

"Hmmm…I wonder what it could be…" Demyx mused, taking the first delicious bite of his cheeseburger and scratching his cheek with his other hand.

The sight made Roxas cringe.

_Bastard..._

The next minute a blond-haired woman walked up to the table. She was another member of the Organization and Roxas swore her bangs looked like thunderbolts.

"Hey, Demyx… Why aren't you sitting with me and the other guys?"

Demyx swallowed his bite. "Ahhh, I decided to vary my crowds. Y'know, I wanna surround my self with diversity."

The chick rolled her eyes.

"Well, don't get absorbed with hanging out with losers. Don't want you infected by the green." She sneered, her piercing glare causing Roxas to forget to breathe.

A cruel grin unfolded on her pale face.

"See ya," She walked off.

"Later Larxene."

Roxas suddenly breathed in deeply. "Man, that lady scares me."

"She scares a lot of people. The only person she never scared was Axel." He chomped again. "Amb wet me pell ya, that man's got bwalls." He said with food in his mouth.

Roxas' face screwed up with confusion. "What?"

Demyx gulped his cheeseburger down. "I said, that man's got balls."

_I would expect him to._

Demyx perked up, eyes following a figure behind Roxas' head.

"Speak of the devil."

Axel sat down next to Roxas.

"Hey guys wuzz'sup?" He grinned as he slid his tray by his friends, then changed moods at the sight of Roxas. "What happened to you?"

"I'm…so…hungry…."

Axel made a face. He pushed his tray over to Demyx. "Here."

"Fanks!" said Demyx, another bite of cheeseburger in his mouth.

Axel arched his eyebrows with amusement. "I'll treat you to lunch, Roxas. But let me ask you something: Do you like icecream?"

--

* * *

;I own nothing but the situations I control.  
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

**"Gravitation is not responsible  
for people falling in love".  
Albert Einstein**

----------  
Axel x Roxas  
The Sacred Somebody  
----------

"**I can't believe we're actually doing this…" **

"Just a little more this way!"

Roxas prayed under his breath not to get killed when Axel grabbed him by the wrist and started flinging him through portals of darkness, quickly strolling through wide corridors dimly lit with black and purple light. The fire head led him through the seemingly lightless passageways deftly, as though possessing a sixth sense Roxas lacked.

Axel appeared to know where he was going. Although Roxas was practically blind in the nearly absolute shadow, Axel was worse off; he was leading them out of memory to a specific street in a specific city, at a certain point on a certain corner. This was a lot harder to pull off then one could imagine. He had to think about the specifics of their mission: blend in with the crowd, get lunch, play games, and return to the castle before the street lights went on. Easy enough, right? Not exactly.

The Organization had some pretty strict rules on the whole "secret life" deal. If you had even the faintest sliver of an alter ego, they got on your tail for treason.

And if you were convicted for treason, your sentence was oblivion.

That didn't sound too friendly.

Nonetheless, Axel was sure this whole plan was going to work. He had scouted out everything to be exact so that everything was perfect for Roxas' day of a real life. None of that neophyte training all new members had to go through. Axel wasn't going to let Roxas be their jackal forever. He had to have _some _sort of a life outside the workplace. Even if the Organization was the only life a Nobody had.

Axel was putting all his faith in his plan of escape from the Organization's aquiline eyes. He had to work out every part of the plan perfectly.

The first part of the plan was to blend with the crowd… At this point Axel got an A+ for his homework.

In the world they were heading to, it was summer, unlike the city Roxas hailed from. The sun would be relentlessly beating down on their necks, making their foreheads pour with sweat. They would need light-colored clothes with enough space for ventilation of hot air. They would need to trade in their Organization XIII coats for something a little…less like a sore thumb and more like a stereotypical cardboard cutout with optional pizzazz. He didn't want to seem like a tourist, but he didn't want to look too local. He needed a perfect balance, something in-between.

That's when it hit him in the face.

In the morning before lunch hour, Axel spent some good money on disguises for Roxas and himself. He was taking an unbelievable risk guessing Roxas' height and shoe size, but his head inflated when everything fit nicely.

He had the taste to pick out a light blue tee shirt (which he had Roxas roll up the sleeves), with a white tank top, emblazoned with a blue star logo that had the number thirteen in the middle, to go over it. He accessorized the youth with a blue and white star wristband, baggy black cargo shorts, and a pair of slip-on sandals.

It's not that he wanted to control Roxas by his fashion sense, it's just the matter of "fitting in." The clothes he had picked out reflected the weather conditions and what the teens of today were slapping on their bodies, somewhat placing them in their own group of stereotypes. That was the whole ideal.

As said, before Axel did his homework.

Roxas was stunned when Axel threw the clothes at his chest minutes before they were leaving. 

"W-what's this?"

"Your disguise," Axel replied. "Try it on for me."

"…Uhhhh…" Roxas blushed on the inside. "Not in front of you—" He suddenly understood why Axel wanted to stop by the Mens' Shower.

With a shrug, Axel unzipped and dropped his Organization coat, letting it fall to his ankles. He was already dressed with his own disguise. Roxas jolted at the sight of Number Nine clothed in a pair of blue jeans with one torn knee, a dark turquoise tank top, and an unzipped black short-sleeved hoodie with fiery crimson Celtic pentagrams on the shoulders. Axel completed the ensemble with a black and red wristband, a black onyx ring, and a pair of black army boots.

"You like?" Axel did a frisky about-face, waggling his eyebrows in mischief. "I thought I looked a bit more on the dramatic Goth side, but I think the pentagrams pushing it."

Roxas remained silent. He felt a lump in his throat, wanting to swallow it down and answer the red headed elder, but he felt the words die on his tonsils. He resolved to simply bob his head as he turned around and dropped his cloak.

When he finally turned back around clothed in his trendy attire, Axel grinned.

"Knock 'em dead, Roxas!"

Roxas laughed nervously, and then they went off into a spiraling portal of darkness Axel tore open out of nothingness.

Axel smirked silently to himself, leading Roxas by the wrist through the dim corridors of mostly darkness, as he thought about the next part of the plan: getting lunch. 

Alrighty, well icecream would be a great appetizer, but it wasn't going to quail their hunger pangs completely. They would need something else… Axel wasn't worried about munny. He had plenty of it, added to what he borrowed from Demyx's dresser drawer without asking. He'd pay his roommate back, he swore he would. Axel wasn't overall very worried about it. What would Nine do if he found out he involuntarily spotted Axel's budget with his own life savings? Squirt him in the eyes with a water gun? Probably.

That, or tell the whole Organization about Axel's little play date with the new kid.

Yikes. Axel shuddered at the thought of Xemnas' punishment on both him and Roxas. There was bound to be screaming and almost guaranteed to be blood shed. Unless Xemnas compromised his castigation methods. Oh boy, that would _NOT_ be good. Axel shivered at the thought. What worse could his absolute Superior do…? Uggghh, he did not want to know!

Roxas lagging behind to a dead stop as he pulled him through the dark ripped Axel from his thoughts.

"Come oooon. A little further, Roxas, nothing to be afraid of…" He yanked slightly, but Roxas didn't move. Axel forced himself to stop.

Roxas was stationary, listening intently to the silence.

"What, hearing ghosts?"

"Shhh!" Roxas spat.

Axel chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark."

"No, that's not it," said Roxas, sounding slightly peeved. "I think I heard something move."

"Positive it wasn't your stomach giving you the spooks?"

"Yeah…I thought I heard someone trip," Roxas replied, breathing softly.

"I don't believe this… Well, it wasn't me…" Axel's words wandered off for a second. _Then who was it?_

"I know that, but…"

"I think someone's getting paranoid. You worry too much," Axel pulled Roxas afresh, this time by the hand. He continued leading Roxas feverishly through the dimness.

_No, I worry enough._

Roxas was sure of what he heard. It sounded like a yelp of pain, like when you run into the edge of a desk or get caught in the face by a swinging locker door – both having happened to Roxas on a number of occasions. He was sure he knew what he heard.

"Axel, you don't believe me…" Roxas said mostly to himself, sounding hurt.

"You're right, I don't but that doesn't mean it didn't happen," Axel answered unexpectedly. "You know what you heard. I don't. People choose what they believe, but there's hardly a why," He added, "Belief is like the future – it can always change. Although I don't believe _now_, that doesn't mean I won't believe _yet_."

Roxas was surprised at the red head's sudden philosophical point of view. His lack of response prompted Axel to continue.

"If you can't prove something happened, but you know it did, remain your own witness. People are fickle when it comes to belief. They never have enough of it but they always have a lack of it. Open-minded individuals take less to convince, so don't waste your breath trying to say it happened -- _SHOW _that it happened. There just aren't a whole lot of open-minded people left. Focus on the latter. If you can't show it to them, then they're not gonna believe you anyway. Got it memorized?"

Roxas was speechless.

"You better commit that to memory, Roxas. It'll save you a lot of time… Sometimes getting someone to believe you, when you tell the truth, is the hardest thing to do," Axel said. "Even more so, _what _you're trying to get them to believe may be too hard for them to grasp, doubling the load. They'll always deny you, even if it's an absolute truth… People want evidence, a reason to believe, and what they're not getting is that not everything can be explained. Some things just are and there is no why. Doesn't have to be. It's how it's always been. Some questions are only meant to be asked and never answered.

"If you ask where the sun rises, you will get an answer. But if you ask _why _it rises in the East instead of the West, you'll be searching for facts forever. Then, truth becomes a one-sided account. You will only find opinions and stories trying to explain. That's when it's up to you on what to pick out to be the truth, even if it belongs to someone else. Once a belief is adopted, it's yours, meaning it's also yours to share and change. But just because you share it, doesn't mean others will always accept it," Axel was finished. He was slightly embarrassed that he just went off like that, rambling about the truth and believing… When he thought about it, it sounded almost like he implied much more beneath what was actually said.

The truth was, he did.

"Axel…I never knew…." Roxas started to say.

"What, that I can calm down enough to actually think sometimes? I'm _hot_-headed, not _empty_-headed." Axel chuckled slightly. "Oh, Roxas my boy…" He said, shaking his head. "Still so very much to learn with only one teacher. You only understand so little."

"Oh, I see. Now you're calling _me _empty-headed," joked Roxas, trying to get rid of the serious mood.

Axel grew silent. "Maybe…" He drawled impishly.

"Well, then teach me not to be, Axel. Teach me more, if you're my so-called teacher."

"I am. Class is now in session. Today's lesson: How to have fun when your life is a shit hole."

Axel turned left down the corridor, into a dead-end hallway. The lights faded the farther they walked and soon they where standing in front of a wall covered in darkness. There was not a glimmer of light anywhere.

"Dead end," said Roxas, rather obviously.

"Nope this is where we need to be," Axel replied simply.

"How?" asked Roxas.

"It's a gateway to the world where your lesson begins."

"Oh," Roxas seemed a bit shaken. He suddenly realized something.

He was holding Axel's hand—or was Axel holding his?—and neither of them had let go yet. He felt a stirring inside him the more he thought about letting go.

He discovered that he didn't want to.

This was freaking him out.

"In the absence of light, darkness prevails," said Axel, walking forward and letting go of Roxas' hand "but the closer you get to the light the greater your shadow becomes. Remember that, Roxas."

"Why?" asked Roxas, again with the questions. To him he felt like his subconscious was actually asking about why Axel had let go of his hand.

"For me, there's a reason you should," Axel answered cryptically. "And I believe that right now you don't need to know."

Roxas looked baffled. His face showed it as he stared at the darkness-covered wall.

_Keep him guessing. He'll want to know everything and I won't tell him everything…Crave it long enough Roxas, and when you finally get it you'll be glad you waited._

Axel chuckled. "Don't look so confused. It makes you look like Demyx – I mean, an idiot," Smirking, he threw out his other hand, thrusting his palm at the painted darkness. The portal violet and indigo light creeped open from the wall of darkness, engulfing Number Nine and Thirteen.

"That's mean," Roxas mock-scolded as they began being swallowed by black tendrils.

Axel shrugged. "I ain't all that nice."

**Walking down the street, Roxas needed his head to go a full three-sixty.** There was too much to see and not enough time to look at it all. Axel casually strolled beside the adventurous youth, pondering silently directions.

Their portal had led them to a certain point on a certain street: the alleyway on Star Fruit Avenue; Axel picked an alley so that innocent bystanders didn't go stark-raving mad at the sight of people popping out of walls. Now they were walking down the sidewalk, heading towards Battlefield Memorial Park.

"Wow," Roxas murmured. "This place reminds me of my city."

"I figured as much," Axel said, "This place is just as hostile and dirty as I remember."

Roxas stopped examining his environment to toss Axel an interested look. 

"You used to live here?"

"Yep. I'm still king of the city."

"Huh…." Roxas glanced at the ground. "So, that means you were…"

"A member of a gang?" Axel looked at Roxas from the corner of his eye. "Yeah. I never belonged, though. Our leader thought I was going to defect and join our rivals. It wasn't worth the stress. He was just some scrawny little jerk who probably beat off on his mother's face every night."

Roxas shuddered at Axel's disgustingly descriptive insult.

"I got kicked out when I refused to gang rape a pregnant woman. Then I kicked their butts so hard their unborn grandchildren's children had bruises," The redhead gave a chuckle. He wiped his finger across the tip of his nose as though mocking the defeated with the gesture. "I roamed the streets for a while, meeting up with a guy in a black coat when I tried to use a fake I.D. to get into a dance club."

"Really…"

"Mmm-hmm. As far as clichés go, the rest is history seems too watered-down for my taste…" said Axel, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "If I've got my facts in line, I'd say you're from the streets too, Roxas."

"Good eye," Roxas smirked.

"Gangster, too?" Axel asked playfully. "Or were you a good little boy?"

Roxas shrugged. "Not a gangster."

"Good boy gone bad?" asked Axel. "Ran away from home at fifteen to live it up?"

"No," Roxas replied softly. "I never had a home."

" 'Never?'" Axel repeated.

Roxas shook his head. "I've been homeless for as long as I can remember," He moodily watched his every step across the pavement. "I don't have any memories about parents … a house… friends…even school. Nada. Zilch. I'm blank."

Axel's mind considered Roxas' words. To this day he still felt just as blank about the past. For Nobodies, memories were fragile things: at times hard to obtain but easy to destroy.

"Think of it this way, Roxas," said Axel, rounding the corner. "Nobodies weren't meant to live in the past. What's special about us is that we can only live for today 'cause you never know what the future may bring," He smiled at the blonde youth. "Besides, living in the past ain't healthy. Now, I want you to wait here for a sec while I go get your surprise."

Roxas stopped. "Wait here?"

"Is there an echo?" Axel glared at the sky, cupping his ear. "Yes, _wait here_. You wouldn't wanna spoil your present. I don't want you to know what you're getting. If you did, there goes all my fun out the window right?" Giving him a small smile, Axel patted Roxas on the shoulder, and then disappeared somewhere across the street by dancing in traffic.

"Huh?" Roxas was a little dumbstruck. "What an oddball."

Playing in traffic? The evidence towards Axel's diminishing state of mind seemed to be piling up. Roxas found himself grinning at thought of Axel being a bit of a nutter. Yeah Axel was a little… spontaneous. Every bit fitting of the metaphorical image of a wild fire; wild and extreme, restless and demanding, and predictably unpredictable. Same would be the Axel of Greek poetry: a merciful fire god that seemed to favor the sly and impish. 

When Roxas thought of Axel, he thought of a character in a play by that famous writer and playwright. Y'know, the one who wrote all those florid sonnets and romantic dramas. Shakespeare, that's the guy. Roxas thought Axel was like the mischievous fairy Puck from _The Midsummer's Eve Dream_. Puck caused all kinds of problems, some on accident and others not so much.

Axel seemed to be playing Puck in the drama of Roxas' life. He seemed the type to fiddle around with authority and bend the rules slightly. A guy with nothing to lose and yet nothing to gain. He liked to dance with fire demons, burning them instead of himself.

Roxas had a bad feeling about today. So far all of his premonitional feelings had been right.

He hoped today would be the first day he wasn't.

Despite being told to "wait here" Roxas decided he would emulate Axel by exploiting a loophole to bend the command slightly. He wandered a little ways down the sidewalk and seated himself on a wooden bench in the shade of an oak tree. He rested on his elbows on his knees, staring at his toes poking out of his sandals. He wiggled them slightly for dull entertainment.

The heat was getting to him. His mind felt heavy and hazy from the stifling hot day. His eyes didn't want to be open in the bright sunlight, giving him a slight migraine. Roxas bemoaned the discomforts of summer, but praised the freedom the hot day granted. He rested his head in his hands, feeling droplets of sweat bead on his forehead and roll down his temples.

He felt his heartbeat throbbing in his wrists, pulsating against his head. His breathing came slowly, as he felt like the thin air was without oxygen. He was lightheaded, feeling faint and drowsy all at once.

Roxas didn't like this feeling, a victim of the ruthless heat index and an empty belly.

With little thought Roxas brought his hands from his face, laying down on the bench. His eyes become lidded as he placed the back of his hand over them. Roxas thought it was nice being close by Battlefield Memorial Park because the cars seemed to drive at a low hum, the birdcalls sounding like bells chiming crystal clear in his ears. The sun overhead poured gently down on Roxas' face through the tree limbs' greenery as he felt familiarity and fatigue wash over him.

_Just like back in the forest, a long time ago…_he thought.

Or so it seemed. 

_I guess the heat wears me out._

Roxas smiled to himself. Although he never let it show, he could be pretty lazy sometimes. Back when he was first starting out in the Order he was worked to the point of passing out while standing, staying up late running errands and doing miscellaneous training exercises and then getting up at five to do it all over again. Whenever he finally got to sleep in he never got out of bed. Even if he woke up he didn't get out of bed. He just laid there, absentmindedly dreaming with his eyes open.

Roxas knew he was a bit of a comfort creature. He never got out of bed because he felt safe and warm between his comforter and crisp sheets, nuzzled in the caress of his chilly pillowcase and fluffy pillow. He liked how the morning chilled his linens, giving them a refreshing, cold sensation to his skin. Only on those hot nights where his room seemed to be steamy with the vapors of hell did he ever wake up with his covers off. Roxas sought comfort almost all the time, finding it very important to how a day begins, what happens and how it ends. He would never admit it being a comfort freak, but he would never give it up as a fact.

Roxas closed his eyes, yawning as his lips fell into an unintentional smile. His free arm hung off the side, his fingers ghosting sun-dried blades of grass and dead dandelions, never minding that his sandals slid off his feet and plopped to the ground softly.

Yep, he was going to wait for Axel. Right here. While he succumbed to his laziness.

**Axel couldn't make up his mind. **What would Roxas like? He _seemed _willing for anything new, if not strange. Was he the type who liked something new, or did he hanker for the classics?

Axel hated routine. When life doesn't have unexpectancy, why even live it? He couldn't stand to-do lists, daily planners, or PDAs. They just mocked him at the fact that he lacked patience and organizational skills to actual manage his meetings instead of showing up last minute. Everytime he did that, Xemnas always made him repeat everything said thereafter word for word while dodging insults from the other members of the Organization. Ahhhh, well, Axel didn't give a damn then so why should he now?

The chattering man and woman received their icecream and walked off to the side, canoodling each other's arms and licking their icecream treats in delight.

Axel wasn't really sure why the scene caught his eye. It made his innards ice over and twitch for some reason as he dwelled on it further. The expression on their faces…The way she clung lovingly to her lover's arm…The twinkle in the man's eye and the tone of the woman's laugh… It all made Axel feel ill at ease. Something inside him was trying to get recognized that somehow connected to the scene, and he didn't like it one bit. It was something biting him from the back of his mind; something dying to come up for air but Axel kept it suffocating. Whatever it was Axel fought it. He kept it suppressed, fearing that one day it would impart its vindictive vengence upon him at the wrong moment.

"Hey buddy."

Axel remained in his thoughts, winning the battle against the alien hatching in his brain.

"Yo, crazy guy with the red hair," a brute-ish voice nabbed Axel's real-time attentions. Axel finally looked up at him, seeing the disfigured mug of an obese Italian man who had a lot of facial hair in an apron. "You gonna buy or what?"

Axel frowned deeply, eyes lidding. He was not impressed by the kiosk owner's conduct. His lower lip hunched up slightly. "Yeah, I'm gonna buy. Why else would I be standing here talking to your ugly face?"

The man grumbled. "Okay okay okay. Whatever. What'll it be?"

"Two Sea-Salt icecreams and snap to it, or I'll withdraw my services."

"Alright already. That'll be a hundred and fifty munny pal. Sheesh!" The man popped the latch on his icecream stand and lifted the hatch, reaching in. "No need to get cranky."

"One would hope," Axel mumbled, probably low enough the vendor did not hear it. He felt his pants pocket for his munny pouch. He felt his hoodie pocket for the munny and came up dry. Frantically he began patting all over his body in search for his munny. "No!"

"What is it, can't pay?" The man sneered, holding the two Sea-Salt icecreams smugly.

"I can't find it. Where did I put it?" Axel said, mostly to himself. He continued patting his clothes, digging in his pockets, squeezing his legs and ankles, and even his own buttocks.

"Now you're just on vacation," The man gave a guttural laugh that made Axel grit his teeth and want to slug him.

"Arrraggghhh!" Axel howled, at a loss for words to express his frustration with himself. "Dammit! Where is it? No! Awwww, maannn!" He dropped his posture, hunching forward in a slouch of shame.

"I don't believe this…" The vendor broke into a fit of laughter, wiping away a tear from his eye with his other hand. "Mister high and mighty suddenly a penniless jerk! Ahh, I marvel irony," He said, making a movement to put away his merchandise.

"Here you go, sir,"

Axel knew that voice. His heart nearly strangled him when he turned around to see who was paying for his icecream.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Axel asked, rather disturbed to see Demyx in full Organization attire smiling as he took the icecream from the vendor, who now turned his back and started mining nose gold.

Demyx serenely turned to Axel, holding out his icecream for Axel to take hold of them.

"Saving your ass," Demyx replied, smiling. "Didn't I say I'd watch your backs while you had fun?"

"Ya," snapped Axel, looking slightly hysterical "but I wasn't expecting you to _join_ us!"

"I'm not," said Demyx, shrugging lightly. "I just came to give you your munny that you left on your dresser."

Holding both icecreams with one hand, Demyx dug in his pocket and brought out a little violet fabric pouch with a yellow pullstring, a yellow star dangling off it. He smiled at the shock sweeping across Axel's face, letting the redhead snatch it from him and then shove it into his own pocket profusely.

"Oh," Axel looked lame. "So that's where it went." He grabbed the icecreams, eyeing them suspiciously.

Demyx chuckled. "You always lose stuff."

"No, I just don't remember where I put it."

Demyx planted his hands on his hips, quirking an eyebrow. He scolding mockingly with a smirk, "Likely story." He waved his finger at Axel. "Shouldn't you be more careful?"

"Yeah," Axel said simply, walking away from him "but I'm not," He kept walking away from Demyx, never adding anything more with a backhanded wave with an icecream treat.

Demyx straightened up. He had an amused grin pasted over his true concern for the scatter-brained oddball. "You're welcome!" He called over the sound of traffic, as Axel jaywalked across the street, obviously incurring the wrath of some rowdy motorists. His smile wilted.

_I sure hope he doesn't do anything stupid. Wait – he's Axel. Of course he'll do something stupid._

Demyx gave an exasperated sigh, scratching his scalp in thought.

_You better be a good boy, Roxas. Don't give him any ideas. _

Walking away, Demyx chuckled to himself at the thought of Roxas even attempting at being a punk. It would be so pathetic it could melt even a Nobody to pieces. Just imagining it made Demyx's day slightly better, since coming up with legitimate excuses why Axel and Roxas weren't at the castle was a pretty tough job he called "wing it or die."

"**Oh, so I'm gone for only a couple of minutes and you're already snoring?" ** Axel chided somewhere near Roxas' head. "Wow, sure sends me the right message. I think should take some sort of offense right about now."

Slightly at a loss for orientation, Roxas stirred himself awake, sitting up and wincing at the daylight. "Sorry. I must've dozed off," He scooted over, massaging his eyelids with his hand.

"Had any weird dreams?" asked Axel. He took the seat next to him and handed Roxas a Sea-Salt icecream.

"What? No, none I remember," Roxas took hold of his icecream. He looked up at Axel first before giving it a taste. "Thanks…"

The odd man swung his arms behind the bench, his legs spreading casually, slouching forward while licking his icecream. "Don't mention it."

Roxas looked at his icecream treat. It looked like a sky-blue slab of vanilla.

_If he's not bothered by it, I shouldn't be…_

He took the first experimental lick. He never tasted anything like it before! He jolted, whimpering slightly as his eyes widened.

Axel just happened glance over in time to see the look on the youngster's face. "You don't like it," He said plainly.

"It's…" Roxas timidly looked away from his icecream and into Axel's intense green orbs that scanned into his flesh. "so salty yet… very sweet. I've never had this before. What's it called?"

"Sea-Salt icecream. My favorite," said Axel, affectionately licking his icecream. "You might need to get used to it before you can eat the stuff every day, though."

"Well, it's a once-in-awhile kind of thing, right?" asked Roxas, giving Axel a hopeful glowing smile. "Maybe…if we played hooky more often we could have more icecream…" He gave his icecream an enthusiastic and thoughtful lick.

Axel regarded him with an odd look. "You actually like it? You ain't telling me a fib straight up?"

"Nuh-uh. I really like it, Axel."

"That's funny," Axel made a slurping noise as he gave his icecream a huge lick. "I bought Demyx one and he threw it up like bad guacamole. Larxene told me it tasted like licking a pile of salt, sugar, and dirt all at once, while Zexion told me he ate bars of decorative soap that had more flavor. Makes me wonder about that guy," He paused on that note "But you…You're the first person who actually eats the stuff and–on top of that—_likes_ it. I find that a miracle in itself," Axel said with a jangle.

Roxas started licking his treat with more frequency and enthusiasm, enjoying it with each lick. "Maybe it's one of those either-you-hate-it-or-you-love-it kind of things, too?"

"Maybe," Axel said, his words seemingly drifting away "maybe…"

For a couple of minutes there was nothing but silence and small slurping noises when Axel or Roxas took a big lick.

Many things were pleasuring Roxas all at once. The cold, slippery sweetness of Sea-Salt icecream foamed around his tongue while his taste buds sung hymns of delight. The salty taste braided with the sweet as it slid down his throat in a cool procession, delicious all the way down. It was unlike anything else he'd ever sampled, and he would never forget his first Sea-Salt icecream. Roxas noticed how he cooled down when he caressed the icecream with his eager tongue, sliding it back and forth on the salty sweetness to pool more of the heavenly flavor in his awaiting mouth, almost like eating a beverage. He closed his eyes while relishing every moment he tongued the icecream treat.

Axel gaped at the sight of Roxas making out with his icecream. He watched with interest as Roxas tenderly curled his tongue around the tip of the dairy delight and then glided it down its length, flicking it for extra flavor almost affectionately. Roxas was making a spectacle of himself, as he dove right into his icecream nearly sucking face with it. Axel enjoyed the sight of Roxas sticking the whole icecream in his mouth, leaning back on the bench casually as he suckled and tongue-tangoed.

Axel hardly trusted his voice when he asked, "You're not enjoying that, are you?" He felt slightly breathless as he watched the show, forgetting all about his own Sea-Salt icecream.

Roxas twirled his popsicle around in his mouth a bit and then took it out. A rivulet of blue saliva stretched from his icecream and broke across his chin, leaving a sugary bead of blue on Roxas' lower lip. They quivered slightly.

"Nope, not at all," answered Roxas, giving a smile as sweet as his icecream.

Axel, grinning, tapped at his chin with his finger. "You got a little something on your chin."

"Here?" asked Roxas, feeling the side of his cheek.

"No no, lower."

Roxas poked lower.

"More to the right."

"What, over here?"

Axel clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Here, let me help…" He leaned over, so close Roxas could feel his warm breath. He gingerly took his thumb and wiped away the bead of blue. His eyes glazed as he looked at Roxas in a way he never thought possible.

Roxas forgot to swallow as he watched the sickles of blue in Axel's green eyes glow with mysterious notion. His navel flinched when Axel's eyes narrowed softly, his curvaceous eyelashes adding that gentle air of androgyny Axel unknowingly possessed.

Roxas' lips parted slightly as he felt his throat tighten and dry. His eyes betrayed him as they became half-lidded with impending bliss. What was going on?

Axel's fingers took hold of Roxas' chin, grasping it firmly yet gently, pulling him closer. Roxas' heart pounded wildly in his chest, his skin becoming clammy as Axel's face drew nearer to his. Axel saw Roxas' once intensely brilliant sapphirine eyes had grown dull and hazy as the boy became caught up in the moment. He felt that something in the back of his mind jolt. He parted his lips, the tip of his tongue pressing avidly against his upper lip.

Roxas' pink cheeks had an effulgent rubicundity in the summer heat. Maybe the sun did him good. Axel saw a drop of sweat roll down Roxas' forehead. It twinkled while snagging a ray of light, as though winking at Axel to wish him luck.

Axel tilted his head and closed his eyes. He was seconds away from claiming Roxas' mouth with his own. Roxas had no thoughts, no regrets, no rebellious urge. He felt like he was losing himself to fireball of a man – not the battle, but rather his identity. His will. His name. He caught one last glimpse of Axel's supernaturally vibrant green eyes before Axel's will gave, too. Roxas' breathing returned with a greater intensity. He felt the subtle pulls of cupidity to finally have his cynosure's lips upon his. Closing his eyes, he could feel the inches fading, just melting away with every excruciating nanosecond like liquefying icecream. He felt his trust give with those painful iotas of a second, sensing the decay of distance eagerly pulsating on his lips as they waited for the moment that summed up the equation of his patience. His self-reserve. His loneliness. That void inside.

Axel's lips dithered with nearly insatiable yearning, so strange as it was. The fatal attraction bringing them closer, half-bit by half-bit, was shredding him like a beast. The gravitation pulled them slowly together, today stronger than it had in all the days Axel had been watching Roxas, playing a sneaky guardian angel. Although to Roxas they had only just met, Axel harbored so many secrets that could not be borne at that crucial moment, that most welcoming instance in a beloved past.

Maybe it was the sun getting to his head, maybe he was dying of heat excursion, right now Axel only found awareness in what instinct suggested. His tongue twitched feebly, still moist with the salty sweet of the icecream indulgence that had brought Roxas and him together, so close together…

Yet now he wanted to get closer, close enough to revel in the very same quintessence in Roxas' mouth.

Axel felt his awaiting lips pucker subtly, as impatience began upsetting his nerves. He fought valiantly to control himself, a great battle held fast to the confines of within.

Roxas tried to fill the white space in his mind with lucid reasoning, but nothing came up with the with the fruit of the objective. What was going on? What was going to happen? How was it happening? What lead to it…why? Perhaps it was as Axel said: there is no reason why.

It just is.

Cause and effect. Action and reaction. How and why. Then and now. What is, what isn't. There is a time for everything. Now was not the time for inference and contemplation.

Roxas grew intolerant of the gruesome anticipation for the seemingly inevitable. His mind tried to aroused confusion and fear, but to no avail. Time seemed stilled, all of life nothing but a painting. This moment, so simplistic yet contradicting the very word with fervid silent action, was painted into Roxas' mind with a ballad of the whole color spectrum. Each color, each brushstroke created a nexus of fused emotion and reality into a matrimony of the arts. Every second slugging by was the understatement of eternity itself, feasting upon Roxas' nebulous expectations.

He thought he would burst with the waiting and the torturous wanting. It was a great deal to endure, to crave, but Roxas feared nothing in the end.

Too bad such bravery went wasted when the beauty washed away with a single most unexpected quirk to the playful thing called life.

As Axel at last very softly—barely at all—brushed his lips over Roxas', soliciting a little muffled whimper, there was an abrupt interruption by a sloppy pole of cold wetness that ripped Axel and Roxas from their mindless trance.

Axel tore away his grip on Roxas' chin, gasping at the horror of the freak accident that dripped down his knees.

"Dammit! There goes my new jeans," He got up from the bench at a head-spinning speed. The sugary demon splattered when it landed on the ground. "Now I'm gonna be all sticky," He said bitterly.

Axel's mood fouled.

Not only had one of the most thrilling things to ever happen to him _NOT_ happen to him, his melted Sea-Salt icecream had slipped off the stick and into his lap.

Roxas finally switched back to logic mode as he suddenly found himself perpetually blushing. Axel and him…they really were…

"That's just great—" Axel whined childishly, trying to scrub the mess with his hands and spreading it on to his shirt. "Now I'm all icky-sweet with stupidity's biggest prank," He examined the darker turquoise soaking on his belly in an oval shape. First his eyes were listlessly glaring at the mess, then they were mangos.

Axel sighed in anger. "Come on! Gotta find a bathroom…potty potty potty…Ah-hah! Eureka. Papa, I've struck gold," He muttered before dashing off into the direction of a building over by the entrance of Battlefield Memorial Park. He called behind him, "Don't go anywhere, Roxas. I'll be right back!"

He was gone within seconds.

Roxas was unfazed by Axel's sudden absence as he stared fixedly up at the tree branches above him, eyes spacey, blank and glazed with deep thought. His mouth remained agape while he waited for his inner voice to be found. Still lightly blushing, emotionlessly he stared up at the bright green leaves providing shade overhead.

Absentmindedly he brought his icecream that hung idle at his side to his dry disappointed lips. He blessed himself with a contented lick of the drippy treat, so suffering of the heat like Axel's.

He couldn't stop replaying that scene in his head. It brought something to life in the far regions of Roxas' mind. It was as sweltering hot as the summer heat, but salty and sweet like Axel's favorite treat. Something warm and inviting, but avaricious, dangerous. Comforting and cozy, but alert and cautious. And…and it was…and it was…it was…

Roxas knew he was in trouble when he ran out of words to describe that shadowy something, so hatefully mewling to be assured. To be opened up. Shared. Accepted. Like the truth.

For Roxas, that intangible, wordless something was the truth, hard as it was to make himself believe. It seemed Axel was right; getting someone to believe you, when you tell the truth, is the hardest thing to do. The ironic thing, Roxas wasn't believing he was saying to himself.

Because deep inside he knew that tellers of the truth sometimes lie. But was it a lie?

Was he lying to himself if he stumbled over conclusions, although not proven, and believed them? Was he lying to himself if he failed to identify the awakened something in time? Could he tell himself a lie and believe it, anyway? Could he fool the whole world, protecting that secret something from everybody including himself?

What was there to protect? A thing to help decide what to live and die for? When to cast his line and reel it back, when to buy or steal what he desired? Something… That's all it was for now.

Just his nameless something.

Roxas stuck the whole Sea-Salt icecream in his mouth, letting it sit in his cheeks dissolving away as blue milk down his throat, until he was left chewing the wooden stick. He sighed longingly for a rescue from his deepest thoughts…

_A secret something…So secret I don't even know…_thought Roxas.

He closed his eyes, seeing the beauty of the past flicker under his eyelids. The light in Axel's eyes, the brief soft touch of their lips against each other's, how he held his chin. It was almost like Axel was still holding onto him, still locked in the pose for the artist painting Roxas' favorite moment.

Roxas considered his priorities, what he wanted to accomplish as goals some time in the future.

_I think…I want a similar scenario, but a different ending._

He smiled.

_Axel would like that,_ he thought playfully, _wouldn't he?_

Roxas found it in himself enough to look over his shoulder slightly, watching Axel happily trudging towards him. He bit his popsicle stick hard, gnawing on it as he watched Axel's emeralds glitter with what looked like hope and joy.

Axel gave a confident smile that said a thousand words.

_Of course he would. _

--  
;I own nothing but the words and situations I control.  
What Axel said about the truth is similar to conversations in Chain of Memories.  
Alternate clothing inspired by a peice of unrelated fan art.  
I have no beta-reader. Only spell-check. Fear my typos.  
TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**"If we deny love that is given to us, **  
**if we refuse to give love because we fear the pain of loss, **  
**then our lives will be empty, our loss greater." **  
**-- Tanis HalfElven from the Dragonlance saga**

**------  
Axel x Roxas  
The Sacred Somebody  
------**

**The human personality is much like a box of assorted chocolates. ** You never know what flavor you got until that first bite.

Roxas was about to find out Axel's flavor by what sort of pizza he was ordering. For one thing, Roxas had pizza only twice in his life – once for helping a mother shepherd her children across the street and twice because a kindly old man bought it for him when he was loitering around the place. Kind of pathetic considering the average teenager eats about one fourth of his weight in pizza a year. 

This was bound to be interesting.

Their short midget-y red-haired waiter went off into a chatter when they first walked into the door.

"Heeeyyyyy, AXEL! Oh my 'effing god! I don't believe it!" The shorty was gawking at Axel for an awfully long time. He scurried over and hugged Axel as old friends do. Pulling away, he looked Axel up and down, stroking his scraggy goatee and smirking. "You're back! You're finally back!"

Axel shrugged. "Nah, not for long."

"But why? Axie, baby, you just came to the city for pizza? Yeah right."

"Actually…" Axel returned the smirk. "Yeah."

The short man had the look of shock as if he had been slapped. "No no no. This is business, ya? You come home to tie up loose ends and wipe off your slate with the Boss?" The stranger seemed happy at the curious statement. "Right? Right?"

Axel didn't look pleased. "Listen, Joe, buddy," He touched the man's shoulder in a friendly manner. "I only came home to enjoy the pleasures it has to offer, one of those being Joe's Pizza Palace and Diner's Super Supreme."

The shorty redhead tore his shoulder away from Axel and viciously gestured to Roxas. "And what is with the kid, huh? What is he, some palooka you adopted or…or bastard son?"

Axel glanced at Roxas who seemed offended and confused. "Hell no he's not my son. He's my _good _friend…right, Roxas?" He offered a smile to help ease the pain of the moment for both of them. 

Joe frowned, eyeing them suspiciously. Roxas grew uncomfortable under Joe's inspection.

Joe seemed annoyed at Roxas' silence.

"Hey, blondie, you got somethin' to say?"

Roxas cleaned up his act, switching confusion for indignation. "Yeah. Cram a breadstick in that cavity factory you call a mouth and shut the fu—"

"Alright alright, Roxas. Roxas, calm down. Calm down. Stay cool. Put out the fire, yo," Axel fanned Roxas with a motion of his hand. "We came here to have pizza, not an insult fest with old…_coworkers_, if I may."

Joe crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed. "Whatever, Axe. Come on, I'll take you to your seats," He profusely snatched two menus off the podium at the front of the restaurant and ushered them through the dim and empty dining space to a booth by the window.

Axel offered Roxas to sit down first before sitting across from him. 

Joe immediately went back to business. He took out a notepad and pen from the front pouch on his apron and whistled. "'Kay so, what for drinks?"

Axel smiled mysteriously. "You know me, Joe."

"Big, tall and frosty?"

"Name it."

"Right, so that's an ice-cold glass o' milk and what for the little lady?" Joe sneered at Roxas hatefully.

_Man! What's with people giving me that look today! Sheesh!_ thought Roxas.

Roxas' face twisted with anger and he acidly replied, "I'm a guy, you retard. Give me a glass of Coke, short, ugly and stupid."

"Uh-huh, water with lemon for princess. Alright, back in a few for your order," Joe hurried off with the notepad without another word towards the kitchen. As soon as he was out of earshot, Roxas let his opinion be known.

"Fucker," His upper lip pouted and twitched in distaste, his eyebrows furrowing. He crossed his arms and laid them on the table. 

"Relax, hombre, he's like that to everybody," Axel nonchalantly browsed through the menu, not finding anything he liked.

"So what's his problem then?"

"Joe and I used to be pals in…my former occupation, we'll say. He's the owner of this diner-slash-pizzeria and he's kinda bitter about my leaving the team," Axel tried to calm Roxas down with a consoling smile, but the boy was still sour. "Look, don't let him get to you. I'll bet fifty you can kick his ass without breaking a sweat."

"Joe's his name, eh?" Roxas' eyes narrowed to hard granite slits; Axel thought about Demyx for a brief second. "He's got himself more than he can handle messing with me."

_Roxas and Demyx: Long lost brothers_, Axel thought playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, Roxas. Don't let the heat melt your common sense," said Axel, "You still need brain cells to shoot ninja at the arcade."

"Sure, whatever," Roxas muttered, rather cold with his words. He picked up the menu and started skimming over his options.

Axel patted Roxas' wrist. "Cheer up pal. Later I hold, you punch."

Roxas smiled at the thought. "Promise?"

"Yep. Cross my fingers and hope to die…"

"Just don't stick a needle in your eye," Roxas finished, receiving a chuckle from Axel. He forgot all about the accusations of him being a woman.

Roxas was hoping the owner would have been more courteous to his customer but apparently grudges were more important than credit, cash, debit, and check. The way Joe glared at him reminded him of that one lady, Larxene. Both of them regarded him as nothing more than Axel's well-fed tick, bad trash, pond sludge, a thorn in their side. The hateful glimmer that told Roxas to not get in the middle of whatever's going on between them and Axel. It was like getting caught in the crossfire of a war – He was bound to get shot.

Roxas frowned slightly. "What's our budget?"

"Ah-wuh?" Axel was busy entertaining himself by twirling the salt and pepper shakers across the table without spilling. Unfortunately his finger slipped and the container of salt rolled across the table over to Roxas, tapping him on his elbow.

"How much am I allowed to spend?" Roxas rephrased, watching grains of salt sprinkle the table.

Axel hastily picked up the salt shaker. He innocently swept the salt off to the floor.

"Order whatever you want. Joe gives me an extra discount every time," Axel replaced the condiments to their proper places on either side of the napkin holder. "I'm getting pizza. You can have some of mine, or order your own, or get something other than pizza. Enjoy yourself, Roxas."

"But I can't decide."

"Then I suggest the Chili Cheese fries. Two types of extra, extra cheese all melted on top and through an order of small, medium, or large fries; Topped with Joe Specialty Chili that's made from his grandmother's homemade recipe. For an extra fifty-cents you can add other things like pepperoni, black olives, onions, and so on. It's big enough to stuff one person and feeds up to three people at once," Axel spouted quickly, ending with a smile. "If you don't eat it all, you can get a doggie bag and take it with us back home."

Roxas loved chilidogs and the fries sounded not much different. He nodded, his lips pursed. He was clearly impressed. "Sounds good to me."

**Joe wasn't very hopping with customers that day.** The diner had been fairly dead since they opened at eleven. He let a bunch of his workers off the clock a few hours earlier than usual. But even if he was the only one running the ovens that day, it shouldn't have taken him as long as it did to get Axel's and Roxas' drinks.

It's because Joe was caught up in a cell-phone conversation.

"The Con Man is back from the Dark, and he brought his amoretto with him."

There was chatter from the other end of the line. 

"Do as necessary…" A voice drawled in a whisper. "Make sure there's nothing left of his tab. We want him home, now don't we?"

An order. From the top.

Joe knew why Boss wanted Axel back. Back in the day, Axel was skilled with his tongue; He could talk himself out of any situation in a matter of seconds by faking emotions and really working up the conversation. He was an excellent manipulator by nature when it came to negotiations of all sorts, from discussing release terms of prisoners to swapping badinage with rival gangs.

Axel was a nifty little fox through out. His actions and reputation alone were his resume to anyone looking to buy his services. Unlike his fellow gangsters, Axel played it more like a mercenary, a kind of jack of all trades. One would acquire his cell-phone number from an underground source and call him for gigs.

Missions depended on Axel's style. He could pop a safe in seconds and pick any lock with a needle, hairpin, or his own pocketknife. Axel was incredible when it came to the tales on how he evaded the cops by jumping off buildings down to the city streets without breaking his grace like a stunt man on the set of a movie. Some tales told of how Axel hopped roofs to lose the police chasing them, and then dodge-rolled off the side into a window two stories down. With not so much as a scratch Axel escaped and disappeared, like he was never even there.

Axel had many names on the streets. "Mad Dog," "Ace," "Ghost," "Axe," "Razer" and "the Con" were only a few slightly unofficial names. None of them reflected his true abilities. His highlights especially, Joe remembered, were stealth missions on enemy territory.

Only once had Joe and Axel been assigned to the same gig and he would never forget it. Axel was beyond belief. Joe's memory vividly depicted Axel, dressed in black with a dark purple trenchcoat (Axel said to "kill them with their colors"), stalking around with silent steps around the lit windows, .45 poised in his hands. Him and Joe had been sent out retrieve the Boss' little sister, Tristie, whose (ex) boyfriend ended up being the leader of the rival gang's male mistress.

"Joe, you got my back?" Axel whispered. Chills shot through Joe's spinal column.

"Yeah, I got ya," Joe got out his own semi-automatic and cocked it for good luck.

Axel smirked. He kissed the trigger of his gun. "It's showtime, baby,"

When Joe turned to ask a question about their entry point and plan, Axel was already gone. Joe's heart choked him. He was alone. Now he had to do the rest of the mission by himself.

"Lazy bastard…"

Joe cursed low and then went on his way to the front door of the warehouse. Suprisingly no one was guarding it, but Joe was not worried about that. He was more afraid about what was on the otherside.

He breathed deeply. "Dear sweet Mary and Jesus…"

He fortified himself and then kicked the door's locks with all of his might (a practice copied from Axel). The door exploded open with spectacular effects, links of chain spraying the air and clinking to the ground. Joe rushed forward, his gun in front of him like a dangerous shield. His heart pumped viciously as the adrenaline spilled into his blood stream.

"Alright, ya grubby bastards, hands off the girl and no one's paying medical charges!" Joe shouted, trying to sound heroic despite the facts the tallied up against it.

Six men in purple and black suits, surrounding a gagged and bound teen they had tied to a support beam, all turned hell-burning eyes at Joe. Their heartless gazes ripped the lining out of Joe's stomach with sudden terror, the acid eating him inside. Joe forgot to breathe for little more than a second and he suddenly felt the urgency of needing to move, to escape. He had to do something, fast. But what? What to do, what to do…. He started panting with the moment.

All of the men whipped out their guns from their belts. Very soon Joe was staring down the business ends of six .45 pistols. All of the men cocked their pistols at once.

"You move, you die," One of the men spoke in a hallowed, dead voice.

Joe panicked. He no longer had any control of the situation. He began to sweat and spout gibberish. His aim shook wildly as his eyesight blurred with tears. His stomach churned and lurched. He had to move. Do something. Pull the trigger. Scream. Something! He could not just lay down for these people. There was a mission, a person to save… However, that alone was not the bulletproof vest he required at that moment.

He was going to die. He felt the terror rushing through his veins. 

"Ahhh, Mr. Steele. Pleasantly dropping by for a visit?" A man in a black and purple pin-strip suit stepped out from behind two of the biggest henchmen. Joe knew that distinct sheen on the man's long waist length black hair, a soulless flicker twinkling in his crimson-hazel eyes. With a cold smile he got out his handgun and cocked it, pointing it at Joe. 

"Let Tristie go!" Joe tried to get his "hero" voice back. The one time in a lifetime to play the hero, and he was scared witless. Life just was not very nice that way.

The black-haired man looked unshaken, eyes like cold iron. "Oh? You are the one Boss sent to save his precious little sister? Joey Steele?" He asked mockingly, looking around. "You're not a ghost, Joey."

_Did he mean Axel? How the hell...! Does he know? _

"I'm not but you'll be, Franklin Donnatelli!" Joe aimed afresh at Donnatelli's heart, wishing he carried more than one pistol and had more than two arms at the time.

Donnatelli chuckled heartlessly. "I think not. If anyone's dying it's you and Ms. Tristie over here," His lackeys moved to show the Boss' younger sister. Joe could tell she had been through a lot. She had bruises and was bleeding out the side of her mouth. Her clothes were torn in plenty of places to show that there had been a struggle. He saw that her tear-stained face with watering blue eyes and disheveled red hair proved that she had been through too much for a young girl her age.

Donnatelli grinned as he walked slowly towards Tristie. He seized her face by her chin brutally, his sharp unrefined fingernails cutting into her skin. "This bothersome little flower has caused me enough pain and suffering than I can endure. She stole my boyfriend—dear sweet Lucian—costing me my only pleasurable company. Lucian betrayed me and gave her all of my secrets, which she then told her older brother...and here we are today," He pursed his lips slightly and he turned Tristie's face to his. "You see my good man, the enormity of her sins can never be repaid… Except…" He pointed the gun up and at Tristie's bottom jaw. 

Tristie shrieked in her gag, eyes quivering of pure hysterical terror.

"By her blood!" Donnatelli laughed maniacally. His eyes showed hell, his pupils shrunken and lightless with the fringes of insanity. He tilted his head towards Tristie, instilling fear in Joe when their eyes met. "Say '_bye-bye_',"

Joe gasped helplessly, paralyzed with terror. What to do, what to do…. Gotta do something, something, anything. He dropped his aim slightly for a second, at a loss for action.

Something something anything. Gotta move. Move… Move. Move! Action of _some _sort!

Hysterical with distress, Joe wildly looked around for anything. A moment, an opening, a weakness. Something. There had to be a way to win with an advantage. The despair was too thick. Joe could not breathe. He could not think.

Trapped—cornered—he could not win.

"BYE-BYE!" A shout rang loud and clear from nowhere. It happened all too fast; Gunshots from overhead… Breaking glass… The darkness of night.

All of the lights had been shot out.

Joe's heart pounded in his throat. His breaths came in shallow pants as he dropped his aim. His stomach knotted up as he felt light-headed. There was no light; no way he could see his foes. He wasn't even sure where he was standing. He didn't know left from right in the darkness. 

He lost his way.

Where was the door? Where was Donnatelli and his men? He had to find out, but where to start.

What to do, what to do… Joe was awaiting the unknown, but so far none of it had been his choice. He felt fragile. Losing his senses, his mind… His hope… He was able to do nothing except stand there, waiting to die. There was nothing but an invisible struggle against nothing. He felt the presence of everything yet he was doing nothing… He saw nothing… He had nothing.

But the darkness had him, and he feared everything.

It all happened too fast: there were a few guns fired in confusion, stabs of light cutting through the dark, accompanied by the sound of bullet shells tinkling on the floor. Grunts and moans. The sound of blows landing on flesh. Bodies hitting the floor. A few desperate gasps from victims, and then silence…

Silence of the grave.

Lightning flashed outside as a rainstorm took place.

Thunder and the pit-patter of rain reminded Joe that there was still life in the world. Not everything—every body—was dead. Yet.

All of his fears came crashing down on him at once. His insecurities him broke against him like waves across the craggy shore.

The reality had begun to sink in deep.

Donnatelli killed Tristie—he was next.

The mission was over…

They had failed…

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky and the dark, empty warehouse was filled with light. Blood on the floor gleamed a morbid ruby in the brief light, glowing as if still wanting to flow in the veins of the departed. Spent ammunition were golden pearls lining the tiles, decorating around the bodies of Donnatelli's men that lay cowed and defeated in pools of blood. New blood… Their blood.

Darkness returned, all the fear and despair with it.

Joe watched steadfastly as the lightning flashed again. His heart throbbed against his ribcage painfully, stinging with every beat. His lungs felt weak as he hyperventilated with the disbelief of the fates of the men before him. Joe prayed for light. It was the only thing that could save him from the trauma, from his insanity.

God was listening that night – lightning struck the sky, but what Joe saw only deepened his hell.

A looming, huge bulk of black, a phantom, hovered near the bodies of the fallen. It was humanoid but an otherworldly aura reeked from it. It stood rigidly in the middle of the room. It jerked, as if beckoning to Joe.

It was Death himself.

Joe was about to die.

Death moved around, as if turning to face Joe.

Darkness descended before Joe saw its' face.

Was it a blessing, to be surrounded by the darkness of the unknown at that very second? Hopelessly surrounded by the unseen? Enshrouded by terror, swallowed by urgency? Cursed by the ability of nothing?

Joe damned his plight. What else was there?

Lightning filled the sky within seconds.

Joe gasped breathlessly, his throat constricting with the sickness in his belly. Fear tore his courage asunder. His resolve melted away from him as he collapsed to his knees, beside him his gun clattering to the floor. 

The living shadow was gone.

He was alone...

For now.

Life's true self brought havoc to Joe's mind. The truth was this: Fear impairs everything—love, trust, hope, as well as the ability to control one's fate. In the nothingness of those horrific moments, which sucked away his soul with every half-second plodding by, Joe knew only fear.

Nothingness was too much to bear. Nightmares were the reality of that day.

Joseph Arnold Steele held his breath and said frantic prayers in his scrambled mind. _God, oh God, please! I beg of you! I don't wanna die! _

Sharp tears pierced his eyelids as they squeezed out the corners of his eye. He felt the weight of the world on his back, the gravity of consequence pulling him under. He was sinking, hell-bound. Joe hadn't the mercy of God from His cruel sense of humor. As much of a victim as anybody.

Now, it was too late. There would be no absolution.

Joe hung his head and braced his palms on the floor. The awaiting unknown had him his its grasp. There was no escape.

Amid the thunder and between the rainfall's melody, new sounds erupted from the dark. A large snap, like a breaking twig or bending a plastic pole, crackled. From the same direction came tumbling liquid and its gentle sloshing as though being shaken up.

_That ain't the sound of God._

Joe wearily lifted his head. His once dark-fearing eyes, bulging in disbelief, saw a bar of soft red light glowing in front and slightly above him.

He swore he was about to suffer heart failure.

"Sorry it took me so long pal. I was 'bout half way when I noticed I had no flashlight,"

God's answer was Axel. Around his neck he wore an activated red Glo-Stick like an amulet. In his arms he cradled the unconscious Tristie, carrying her as the hero of a romance novel. The lightning flashed at the right second, as though on cue, and Axel reminded Joe of statues of the solemn gods, with his flame-red spiky hair and crystal blue-green eyes glittering mischievously in the light of the storm.

"I remembered our supply bag we dropped by the dumpster. Thankfully still had a couple of Glo-Sticks leftover from the fourth of July," 

Joe's jaw practically came unhinged, his eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets. He stammered wildly, "Y-you…you did all that? By yourself…?"

"Did what?"

Joe found Axel's bluntness almighty. "THAT!"

He waved his arm around in front of him, trying to showcase all of the scene of the crime to his partner that seemingly had no part in the mission, and yet came through in the end by doing everything.

Axel casually looked over his shoulder.

"Oh. Yeah, I did that. Not by myself though. You get credit, too."

"B-but I… All—all I did was—was a-a-and then with the—and you…and you," Joe's shock was wearing off but his stammering was not helping with getting his point across. "H-how did you…do all that?" Joe could see just fine with the red glow stick that Franklin Donnatelli was bleeding on the floor.

Axel snickered knowingly. He shrugged like it was nothing. "If I told you, you'd be dead."

"No questions asked," Joe said, Axel detecting traces of hysteria. Joe picked himself off the ground, grabbing his gun out of relief. "I'd end like Donnatelli over here," He chuckled lightly.

"Actually he and his buddies are all just knocked out," Axel started walking towards the exit once Joe seemed ready. "Pretty easy stuff. I've fought bigger crowds."

"How can you talk like that? You're like some retarded dare devil with a death wish,"

"And what if I am?"

Joe thoughtfully considered the question, playful though it may be. "Point taken."

Joe remembered the impression Axel left on his heart that night, the memory so beautifully engraved. "If I told you, you'd be dead." For some reason, Joe believed him.

After the famous Donnatelli Warehouse Drop-in gig, Axel and Joe received offers and praise from just about everybody in the underground. Although they never went on another job together because they always had other things, Axel made it fairly easy to become friends with him. They were buddies for a long time, until Axel left the gang for his own reasons.

That day that Axel walked into his restaurant, after what felt like years, Joe still believed in the impression on his heart – "If I told you, you'd be dead."—and that they were still friends.

Joe swallowed nervously in his reply. "Unfortunately sir, it might be harder to bring back Ace," He was afraid of that. Joe himself wanted Axel back so badly it was insane but he wasn't about to force him.

"Why…is that?"

"You see, it's like this: he's walking around today with this kid, Roxas, and he won't even swap stories of the glory days."

"I see… we'll have to take care of his sweet spot," The man's words lingered like the hisses of a python. "Inform the Shadows."

"Sir yes sir, I'm on it," said Joe, hanging up his phone. For a second Joe regretted ever placing the call.

**Axel didn't like the sight of Joe talking on the cellphone while pouring their drinks after fifteen minutes.** Joe wasn't known for social activity and Axel was pretty sure he didn't have a lot of connections outside the gang's family members.

Axel had to be on his tippy-toes. Something stunk bad in the air.

Roxas looked at what Axel was staring at. All he saw was Joe coming back towards them with their drinks.

"Here you go," Joe floated to their table and set a glass of milk in front of Axel and Coke and water (with a dish of lemon wedges) in front of Roxas. 

"So Joey-Joe," Axel said casually. "Who was on the phone?"

"Huh? Oh. My wife, y'know, Sylvia. Just called to tell me baby Samantha's teething and that she wanted me to kick up a pacifier and a bottle of whiskey on my way home," He got out his notepad again. "Ready to order?"

"Yup," Axel gathered up the menus and gave them to Joe, who stuck them under his armpit. "Give me a large Super Supreme. Extra extra red jalapenos. Instead of the usual sauce give me ultra-spicy Bar-Be-Que, sprinkled through with Blair's 6am Reserve. Make sure to cover it in a blizzard of shredded Capsicum chile peppers and dip the anchovies in garlic butter," Axel smirked smugly at Joe furiously scribbling on his notepad. "You got all that?"

"Yeah, it's what you got _every freakin'_ time, Ace. And _every freakin'_ time I can't help but think you're gonna lose your sense of taste with all that spice," After a few more pen jerks he pointed at Roxas. "And what for you, Sheila?"

"Roxas! My name is Roxas," he snapped. "I just want a medium order of Chili Cheese fries with extra-extra cheddar, sausage, and onions, PLEASE!"

"Got it, _Row-sass_," Joe scurried off. 

"And don't forget the extra bottles of hot sauce!" Axel called back to him. Joe gave a thumbs up.

Trying to make himself forget Joe, Roxas began to be interested in the mysterious ways of Italian cuisine. "What's… the Super Supreme?"

"Man, are you slow," Axel said as he slouched in his cushion. "It's a pizza with everything on it."

"Oh, now I feel stupid."

Axel suddenly felt a stab of something inside him – Remorse? Guilt? He knew his response was a tad insensitive.

"Don't."

He felt slightly better.

Roxas moved the purple curtain to look outside the window. It was raining softly now and his reflection was distorted through the rainfall. "What else did you put on that?"

Axel smiled, leaning to see the weather forecast. "Glad you asked. I ordered extra extra red jalapenos."

Roxas quirked an eyebrow but never facing Axel. "What's the difference?"

"Red jalapenos are hotter than the green ones," Axel explained simply, gazing into his reflection and then into Roxas', noticing how he was radiantly shimmering when sad even in the window's glass. Just like when Axel first saw him.

That expression alone made Axel want to give Roxas a hug but it was probably too early for that. He continued, "I think you've tasted Bar-Be-Que sauce before, but I wouldn't expect you to know what Blair's 6am Reserve is.

"Blair's 6am Reserve is one of the hottest hot sauces in existence. It reached up to sixteen million Scoville units—that what measures the 'heat' of hot sauces, and the hottest sauces are made from capsaicin extract. That makes 'em too hot for more than a drop or two in your food but I can handle the load," said Axel, as-a-matter-of-fact-ly.

Roxas looked at Axel emptily. "Dude, I asked what was on your pizza, not the whole history of hot sauce!"

Axel grinned. He reached over and ruffled Roxas' hair playfully. "You learned something new, right?"

"Unfortunately yes," Roxas rewarded him with an award-winning smile, still not facing him which drove Axel nuts. "That was proof you've got too much time on your hands."

Axel, smiling, put his hands behind his head. "You got that right."

"That's what libraries are for. I guess you don't abuse your privileges." 

"That's what libraries are for. I guess you don't abuse your privileges."

"Yup," agreed Axel. He itched his nose with his thumb. "You really need to check it out sometime," Axel liked the thought of that. Roxas was just what he needed to distract him long enough so that he could concentrate – however that worked. Without his distractions distracting him, Axel got nothing done. He needed something else going on. His CD player on his ears playing guitar-grinding punk rock, texting Demyx with his cell-phone about watermelons and drumming his pencil on the table were his regular methods but they had not been working.

It was time for change, and change was good. Very good.

Axel could barely wait.

"Maybe someday…" said Roxas. He yawned. "Someday…" He pressed his forehead on the cool glass. The vibrations from the rain hitting the window made Roxas think of the calming sound of a heartbeat all babies fell asleep to in their mother's womb. The coolness of the glass made Roxas forget about the summer, about Joe, about the Organization. But not about Axel.

Roxas was comfortable around him. Axel had a very cozy energy to him that Roxas found rather…appealing. Roxas felt relaxed around Axel, this being about the third time that day he felt like sleeping. Yes…sleep sounded good right about then. The comfort creature inside Roxas clawed him on the inside.

Roxas enjoyed feeling pleasantly drowsy. Axel was the only person he knew that ever made him feel that way…so close to the surrender of slumber. All members of the Organization had a certain "air" to them that Roxas was sensitive to. The Superior made Roxas feel like he was stinging from frostbite at every word, every glance, every touch. He didn't care to be around the man but considering he was Number One he was forced to.

Roxas _saw _just about everybody else, having only _met _a small group of them in person. There was Xigbar, Number Two, who made Roxas feel oddly at ease in a playful and unpredictable sense. A little unexpected, since Xigbar was the second in command. Why was he nice to the lowest of low? Roxas was glad he was.

He still had Three, Four, Five, Six, and Ten to meet. Saïx made Roxas feel breathless and lost, which was seriously disconcerting when Roxas had a conversation with the enigmatic man. Saïx came off as a bit psychotic and so he avoided Saïx whenever possible.

Number Nine was the simple feeling of friendship and companionship. Demyx had not a crookedly bad bone in his body, and it showed when he was being outgoing to new people. Roxas thought Demyx was too nice for his own good but that's a trait anybody can—and should—admire.

Now Larxene, Number Twelve, made Roxas uneasy and nervous. It gave him stomach cramps just thinking about how much he had heard about the Savage Nymph, the only female in the whole Organization, being an arrogant sadist in nature, abrasive and uncaring for others while torturing them with mind games. Roxas, being Number Thirteen, was actually supposed to be Larxene's roommate but Marluxia, Number Twelve, decided to switch.

Roxas was so freaking happy he could cry.

Marluxia didn't seem to be too bad of a guy. He set boundaries and rules, and him and Roxas stayed on peaceful terms since their meeting. They never really talked much, but Roxas detected no sense of friendship, hostility, or even invitation for social interaction. Marluxia seemed neutral on everything so his aura really had no punch.

Axel, on the other had, was different. From their first meeting Roxas knew Axel wasn't like everybody else, whom Roxas hadn't met but already assumed them being cold and hateful. Number Eight was warm and comforting like a hearth fire that Roxas could curl up in front of and just sleep. Roxas was drawn to Axel, a moth to a candle's flame. He felt caught up in the spiral of Axel's exuberant energy, wrapped around in a blanket of fire soul that he never wanted to let go. He would cling to the warmth he could not bear to lose, and fall into an endless slumber in the glowing aura of the Flurry of Dancing Flames.

Breathing softly, Roxas closed his eyes.

--  
;I own nothing certain character, the words and situations I control.  
This chapter feels shorter than the others. Sorry if it is.  
I love all my reviewers and I will respond to everybody very soon.  
Suggested reading: The Everything Creative Writing Book by Carol Whitely.  
…QUINTON FLYNN! (God, I love that man!)

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

"**Love should be gradually discovered,  
and just as gradually revealed and kept, --  
Not at all in the ways of  
Romeo and Juliet."  
-- Sarah Heath**

Axel x Roxas  
The Sacred Somebody  


**He was a lush and darkly-beautiful fallen angel, that boy; he was nothing less and he was something more.** Precious loss of paradise and the apple of Eden, his glory was painted as the sunrise and Axel adored the sight of dawn. The winged-messenger boy, stripped of the grace of heaven, sat in the diner, sleeping peacefully with his head against the window. He was beyond the splendor of the skies, which grew pale and envious of his brilliant shine, rejecting of his glorious light. Although his light was left to shine on its own, it was the most beautiful of all the eyes of the universe, surpassing all the twinkling fires of the Milky Way's collection of suns and constellations.

Axel watched over this god-like boy of the sky to protect the beauty in the light he possessed. The sky's child was luck-loved but left behind on earth to fill the colliding sound of the emptiness and the sorrow of the people with the joy-song of the angels. He was on a mission to make life live-able and to make love with the brawling love that was among the people. 

So far, he was succeeding.

Before long, Axel found himself singing obscure hymns of uncoordinated religious happiness—mentally, of course. He found himself praising the Greater Powers That Be, although he never really believed in God. (He was atheist and just never gave diddly-shit for "organized religion," church-going, or Bible-geekiness crap; he was atheist when he had a heart, and he was atheist without a heart!) Strange as the circumstances were, apparently he had suddenly acquired a religion, and it disturbed him way the hell out of his noggin as he prayed with an alien tenderness for sweet dreams for the sleeping angel. Dammit, it was a miracle – a fucking-Jesus-Christ-and-the-saints-worthy miracle. Label it what science may, it wasn't going to fit in any where on the Discovery Channel or win him a Nobel Peace Prize.

Science or religion—or, "God" help him, _Scientology_—wasn't able to give a properly long-winded explanation about the part of himself he wasn't aware of; inside him was the capability and desire towards caring for someone other than himself, which should be, theoretically, impossible. It defied all logic, broke all the rules, and really made a mess with his mind… It should be impossible, utterly concrete in its ability to not exist and to NEVER exist.

But it wasn't. It had happened and it was all God's fault. Either God or Jesus. Axel couldn't make up his mind about the "who" of his real-life whodunit. SOME Greater Power was responsible; Axel just didn't know who to blame quite yet, but he was working on it. He was cooking something up to bring his new religion down…

Either way, the existing non-existent miracle was for real. It was happening. It was happening—TODAY. It was happening to him, and it was happening to Roxas, too…

With his idolized angel asleep, Axel had some thinking-time. Thinking, a dangerous past-time in itself, showed the dangerous side of the situation, and the dangerous side wasn't very pretty. No, not pretty at all. 

Thinking more on that point, Axel wasn't really accustomed to thinking. He was a creature of whim and "do", the very beast of spontaneity and impulse. He never really had time to think. Too busy with the doing, he had no time to think about what the hell he was actually doing until it was actually done; thinking was bad for Axel because it showed how stupid some stunts he pulled really were.

Shortly put: his new "religion" got him thinking. Which was bad.

VERY bad.

Mentally digging inside, wading around in the boggy depths of thought, things buried under the skin were shedding out. He was collecting the odd bits of his person—the pieces of a half-eaten soul. Bringing them out. Stringing them together piece-by-piece, trying to make sense of everything. 

Yes, trying to make sense of a seemingly god-begotten miracle, but _trying_ wasn't _doing_.

The sum of everything showed Axel as a changed and confused man. This man stared back at him in the distorted mirror of the glass window. Physically speaking the reflection was his; beyond that, he was a stranger to himself, a stranger to the world.

Thinking about it (something Axel shouldn't ever do, mind you), it seemed that meeting Roxas opened his eyes to how much was amiss in truth, in his mind and, most definitely, in his life.

_Not me,_ his mental-self chanted, _not me NotMeNotMe..._

Memory is such a fragile thing. It was the only thing saving Axel his sanity. The delicate and shaky past showed that Axel was indeed still himself. He just wasn't the Axel of Yesterday… He was the anti-brother, the Axel of Now.

Let's just say this: Axel of Now was nothing like Axel of Yesterday. No, he wasn't and thank Whatever Greater Being That Is!

Back in the days of the Way-Back-When Yesterday was a walking contradiction. Selfish one minute, sharing the next. Laughing with you, then laughing at you. Playing with; playing against. Hurting you; healing you. Trusting you; betraying you. Holding you; abandoning you. Loving you. Hating you.

Yesterday nixed everybody. Only out for his own motives, twisting people's hearts and delightfully eating them. He was stable, but needy. Willingly insubordinate, out for nothing more (and certainly nothing less) of whatever there was to gain, even if it was nothing. He was never one way or the other, not completely evil but not absolutely good… Never loyal to one standard thread of personality nor loyal to a minority of the mind.

Another way of saying? He was a complete asshole, shit-headed jerk-off who was solely responsible for his own misery and friendless-ness. He was angry with himself and angry at the world. A nut case of a punk prince with major psychological and social problems.

He was such a jackass, such a fucking dick-head, he hurt everybody and didn't give a rat's ass. Everybody misunderstood him, and above all, everybody hated him because of it. No-one could stand to be around him or the sight of his face. They could smell his wickedness kilos away, the scent of something deep and dense like masses of flowers at a funeral, possibly theirs.

Until fairly recently.

Yes, quite recently in fact. Everything That Was _wasn't_ anymore. __

His quirks and flaws were melting away, then reforming. He was changing with a welcome change and everybody was waiting for the New Axel to burst the womb. He was becoming something, rather than someone.

He was a sculptor's harlot and painter's lust as he was created into the beauty that was of their art and the art of the Creator. His every cell vibrated with the silent sound of new life as his fibers joined together with their proteins, and then split and divided, multiplying with every break in the form. He was a mess, but it was a wonderful, convoluted nightmare of chaos and creation as he became what he was to become.

Reshaping, re-mastering, and becoming. His personality bubbled up and crooked, and then crushed down and gnarled. It bulged, fizzled, oozed. It formed shapes in the medium and then squelched to nothingness, the sculptures mashing and molding anew.

Oozing, squirming, becoming. __

Becoming. Just _becoming…   
_  
Goop—sludge—scum—gunk. Like shaping wax or sculpture clay. Gooping, dripping, wriggling and pulsing to the tribal beat of life, writhing to the drum-line of the soul in us all… 

_Becoming_, just _becoming_—a new person, new man, a new life. A new beginning, and a different ending…

Swelling—evolving—growing—changing… Splurting, gushing, popping, boiling…

Becoming…Axel was becoming—he had no better word for it—s_quishy_. Yes. Squishy. 

Positively and witlessly… squishy. 

He was without true form. He had no ground to stand on, no resolve to call his own. No solid medium to manifest through… Nothing to translate raw being, his unfiltered anima.

He had nothing to close the circle, to bring his fragments into wholes.

Yes, he was simply just that—squishy. Squishy, as in resembling a sponge, as in having soft porous texture and compressibility.

That was Axel; he could almost call himself a gelatinous pile of squish. 

Besides squishy, he wasn't sure what to call it; he was either radiantly becoming, undergoing a massive transfigurement… Or he was going down in the flames of a malignant tranmogrification, warped and grotesque.

Whatever it was, good or evil, it was all because of Roxas. This terrifying, remarkable metamorphosis was Roxas' doing.

Yeah, it was all his fault. His fault, and God's.

Roxas was the catalyst of change, the seed of something completely new and completely wonderful. It was his fault that Axel was squishy, his fault alone that the world was illogically beautiful. He smeared the real world, weaving truth into fantasy with just his presence in Axel's life. 

It was, delightfully, Roxas' fault that Axel was suffering from the unexplainable squishy-ness…

Now, because of Roxas, Axel was uncertain of his own existence, but he was positive of existing non-existent miracle tickling inside him.

Axel was unsure of everything he thought he knew, except for one thing: that he wanted Roxas' undivided attention, and he was positive he shouldn't give any of the suggestions a try. So many questionable items had to do with the everything of their lives, their futures, what lay before them. And still, despite them, He wanted to do things with Roxas, _for _Roxas. _To _Roxas

He wanted to buy him chocolates and roses for no reason at all. To take him to the movies and spoil him rotten. To be there for him, to hold him, to run a hand through his spikes, to hug him…

Of all things, right now he wanted to brush Roxas' hair out of his face, to caress his cheek. He wanted to sit beside him and lay his head on his neck, to fall asleep right with him. 

_Why? Just…why?_

Answering such questions could have been dangerous—If Axel scared Roxas, that would be the end of their beautiful friendship. It would die and would be irretrievably lost.

He didn't want that.

So, he wasn't going to do it.

L_ook at him. The face of a sweet little child_, Axel thought. And then stopped, frowning outwardly at his statement. _Man, I feel like such a perv… Gahh, even worse; I SOUND like one. Hell, I AM A PERVERT! _

Simply put, Axel was afraid of himself and what he could do. And with good reason! 

His throat lumped up. How long must he go on? His body shivered. He could almost feel his arteries clogging up with anxiety.  
_  
One-sided; that's how it's going to be. What I want for us will never happen unless I make it happen. Roxas, you play so hard to get… What I want doesn't match what you want, and I can only hope for that someday when it does...   
_  
Axel could stand it no longer. His restraint, though impressive, was not enough.__

…Because when Someday comes around, when we're united in wanting, I'll be there. I'll be there to watch the sunrise with you.

He could not be held responsible for what happened next. Wasn't enough will power stop him any anymore.

He had already wasted too much time on this whole "thinking"-thing. What chance would he get after this one?

In this Great War we call life Axel lost the battle with himself. Funny, he lost to a kid; hilarious that the kid would never know of his silent victory. 

Axel gave Roxas a smile of bemused, awkward affection. 

"Man, I'm such a loser." He sensually stroked his bottom lip with his finger as he said, "You win, Roxas."

He finally gave in. 

"Let's let the losers win," he whispered, knowing Roxas couldn't hear him.

He reached out and pushed away an errant strand of sandy blonde hair from Roxas' nose. He tenderly tucked it behind his ear, the color reminding him of honey over wheat. As Axel pulled his fingers away, they lingered and softly brushed Roxas' earlobe. Axel could not believe how soft and warm Roxas' flesh was. So velvety and smooth. Sweet, deliciously sweet… He chewed his lip in thought, sensations tingling through him like termites in the swarm.

Axel sighed. 

_Sigh… Just, siiiiggghhhh…._

There was no way in hell he was going to win. 

He petted the side of Roxas' face with his hand. Leaning up over the table, he cautiously looked around him, then at the oblivious, sleeping Roxas. He thumbed the boy's flesh gently, praising that he wasn't wearing his regular Organization attire complete with gloves; if so, he wouldn't know how magically lush and delicious Roxas' skin felt. The touch was so gratifying he could almost taste Roxas on his tongue, his lips.

In that moment, Roxas was more a porcelain figurine than a fifteen-year-old boy. His skin was milky, star-kissed silk, smooth and satisfying to touch. It was everything Axel thought it would be and it exceeded all dreaming expectations. The boy's warmth tempted Axel to do other things besides caress his cheek, like nibble his ear, hold his hand. kiss his neck, squeeze his co—

Axel shuddered in distress with himself.

He thought wildly, _Hold the phone! Not even gonna go there! Damn, I'm such a fucking pervert…_

He sat back down, cradling his chin in palm as he crushed his crimson hair in his fingers. 

_I feel so dirty... _

What was he thinking? Apparently he wasn't. (THANK GOD! …wait…)

Axel was frustrated with himself, with this moment. He fidgeted in his seat, picked off imaginary lint off his shoulder, wrung his hands together, and even picked at his eyelashes.

He couldn't just do anything with it. So much could go wrong. Too many risks that Axel was not willing to take—for once in his life. 

Sure, he was a troublemaker but he would rather him be in trouble than letting his friends get heated. He always had that kind of instinct pushing him to think less and less of himself. Axel's worst fear, however, was not the getting "into" of trouble. 

Rather, he was afraid of "who" he was in trouble with. 

If it was with Demyx—Yeah, no biggie. Just act sorry, apologize, hug, and you're good and golden.

If it was with Larxene—Okay: end up in the hospital bay with body parts exploding in pain, a few (more) stitches, a concussion or two, and casts for broken limbs. Then, get out after a couple of months with enough scars to act as Post-It notes not to do it again. Knowing Axel, he would end up doing it _again_, and end up in the E.R. _Again_.

Dude, Axel was just good like that.

However, if he got in trouble with Roxas—_that_ was a different story, something Axel found himself reluctant to write. 

At that excruciating and frustrated moment, he feared further movement. 

Axel wanted to do it—badly—but he was at war. With himself, the side that should have gone with the other part of his soul and his incomplete being.

He wanted to do it. God knows how sorely he longed to. 

On the other hand, he didn't. At the same time, couldn't. Wouldn't. He was twisted inside out with ifs and whats, do's and don'ts…

All because of the invisible line drawn between him and Roxas. The line keeping good in and bad out, making sure the pure stayed as such and the otherwise never welcomed. The line alone in responsibility for Axel's conflict inside.

Do or do not. The act was waiting to happen.

Axel was unsure of what to do—

So, what was he going to do?!

Roxas seemed a little…jumpy, apprehensive—y'know, _GUARDED_. There was a specific degree of thought put into everything Axel planned, all to achieve the ultimate goal… Axel wanted to invade the fortress surrounding Roxas' inner being, break the chains locking him up inside. Roxas had secrets; Axel wanted to know every single one of them. 

Heh, only forethought and planning would ever bring Axel his desire.

Axel could never keep Roxas out of his head. He was crazy for the dude, and yet he knew practically nothing about the guy, and he _WAS_ a guy! It was a little creepy, but Axel decided to over look that. He really just wanted to know Roxas like no one else's business. What was Roxas' idea of a pleasant evening? His favorite food? Favorite song? 

So many questions that Axel had to sneak around to get the answers to; Axel wanted to be the keeper of Roxas' every secret, as secrets are precious gems shared by the closest of friends and the deepest of lovers.

If Axel got a hold of the secrets from the mind of his…_obsession_, maybe—just maybe—Roxas would see how close he was to Axel (even though it wasn't even for a day, as far as Roxas knew). Axel yearned for him to know, but the only way he thought of ever telling him wasn't through words. It was through action, and action needed to happen.

But that wasn't all Axel found out he needed. 

Axel needed every inch of Roxas' body by memory, the sensation of his tongue, the honey-softness of his lips against his. Needed to know Roxas' every reaction, every quirk, every flaw. He was dying to find out how much Roxas' would squirm if Axel squeezed his arousal with a tight grasp; how much he would moan if Axel licked patterns across his chest and around the edges of his nipples.

How much he would writhe when Roxas felt Axel's passion in his body. 

He had to know exactly Roxas' every fetish, his every kinky fantasy, every quirk of sexual deviancy. He wanted the perfect pitch of his pleading lover's voice thundering throughout the room, the glorious view of Roxas' absolute expression of paramount pleasure, the sweaty beauty of bodily love painted across his mind forever. He craved the sound of Roxas' calling out his name in ecstasy, burying his head into his neck and whimpering in sexual abandon as they rode out their finishes.

Axel had to know – There was no shame in wanting to know such things, only in what he would do, how far he would go, to find out.

Now: One moment in time, the Butterfly Effect could break reality in two… Axel felt he was changing in the smallest of ways with the biggest of results. 

It made no sense. Could one person make all the difference in life, when so much is against that it just cannot be, should not be…? One person to make life more bearable? 

One person who could bring both joy and despair? Pain and pleasure? War and peace? 

Axel thought about it.

The answer was yes. God-fucking-hell-YES!

Nobodies, as beings without hearts, have little, if any, actual emotion. So, without a heart searching for truth in feelings, how could one ever know that the world was made beautiful by just one person? That's the thing. Axel should've never found out. But he did and so, how could Axel ever know that other side of the soul if that side was missing? 

It's the ability to have memories and emotions that make humans special. It makes them who they are, and Axel knew—believed, was for sure—he was still human, although trapped in the purgatory of nothingness, an intermediate of light and darkness. The one who lives in twilight, in the deceit of his own mind… 

How could it be? This feeling of feelings among none; shouldn't be, but it was. It was. Sure as fuck, it was.

Some cosmic joke? How is it that Axel, with no heart (and thus no emotion), had found the one person to surpass the unspeakable tragedies of life? One person making the world a better place simply by _being_—just living, breathing with him at that very moment? 

The one person who proved that all things are possible, that nothing is as it appears…

Axel felt the hurt worsen, a most wonderful and glorious pain. Like he was bleeding inside. Bleeding for understanding, for miracles, for love…

For Roxas.

He made up his mind that instant; — 

He was going to do it.

Damned if he did and damned if he didn't, he was going to do it. He hated himself for it but nonetheless he was going to do it. Yep, nothing stopping him. Nothing, nothing at all. Uh-huh. He was going to do it. Yes-siree, gonna do it.

He was, wasn't he?

Yeah, do it. Gonna do it. Like, any time now pal. Anytime now.

Yeah. Now. That would be good. Hell, it'd be great!

_Fucking great…_

Axel steeled his nerves—_What could go wrong? _He thought, cheerfully false with a smile to match. Effortlessly he killed his smile quickly and sobered up. 

_A lot of things_, his conscious warned.

Despite all his thinking—and there was an awful lot of it—Axel hefted himself on his elbow on the table and leaned over to sleeping Roxas again. 

He cupped the side of his cheek, relishing the softness of delicious warmth and skin. Axel watched the gentle rise and fall of Roxas' chest, noticed the child-like pucker in his lips as he snoozed fitfully. A soft radiance emanated from Roxas; the aura of angels, Axel called it. He was an angel out of heaven, that boy…

Ooooh, man! This was simply too much! And he decided he was going to do it! What was he, out of his fucking nut?! 

Yes. Yes, he was out of his fucking nut. 

Yes, he was insane and yes; he was still going to do it.

_Who has to know?_ Axel thought… _You do. _

Nothing else stopping him. Nothing. Nothing, but himself. His dirty little secret was nothing he wanted (but could have been something) to regret. 

All he had was hope, which was quickly slipping away.

_I'll keep you, my dirty little secret. Don't tell anyone—_

Nothing else against him, with courage coursing through him, Axel made his move. He barely had a breath in him as he did what choked him of logic; his heart skipped a line of beats, and he was sure death would claim him before he got any further. 

That, or Roxas woke up. Either one was bad considering his dirty little secret…

— _or you'll be just another regret._

Axel won the battle versus himself.

The Something inside him fractured violently, then pleasantly. It cracked blissfully, unleashing true intent. It flowed in him, empowered him, and he knew it was part of the vague feelings he held for Roxas and Roxas alone. There was a word for it but using it implied having a heart, and Axel decided to stay off that battleground. If he were to say it, everything he had made sense of would become nothing. Saying it bound his soul to Roxas'. Saying it changed the fabric of destiny. 

All and all, it was a very dangerous word and combination-phrase to say to anyone, which you couldn't say to _just_ anyone. Saying it required planning, required incredible inner beauty and strength. To say it to anyone would either bring great joy or great pain, perhaps a wonderfully painful mingle of the two. It held in its very articulation a promise of danger, grief, and suffering. Rejection. Depression, following sadness following suicidal hate; consequences and risks in plenty. But, with all things dark and bad, there is light and goodness. Telling someone that dangerous, destructive, life-changing, horribly amazing phrase, that sums up everything and all, could open doors to the better of all things. It could bring a clarity unto all that is and is to be in the future of their everything. However, the final, zero hour moment of confession can make a man a man, and just as easily unmake the poor fool…

Understanding that, a sick-knot in Axel's guts told him to back off.

Inches away from victory, he stopped. Entrapped in a lock step, cold with clay-feet. Deadlocked.

Could he do it? Should he? He answered himself with powerful, silent action.

Rushing forward, he willingly committed sin against the better self. His body abandoned his mind; his mind abandoned reason, and he abandoned dignity. His mental chalkboard dusted itself clean and he forgot all his trouble and weariness, feeling them melt to nothing as his lips tasted a heaven not of the rim of the sky. He didn't think to think, and thus, to save himself the agony, he didn't think. He lost himself in himself, and thus, was not himself as he suddenly realized what he just did.

He had just kissed Roxas. 

With just his lips, he conveyed a strong understanding to himself that had lost nights of sleep about. That understanding brought satisfaction, along with slight confusion. 

With only his lips did he find an answer he had been searching for. With only his lips did he raise more questions that demanded answer, and, in turn, he would lose even more sleep. The answers found became questions needing answering, and so he just made more work for himself. 

Even if his lips caused more trouble, Axel admitted it was wonderful finally getting to know a secret part inside himself. 

He kissed Roxas in fire, out of wicked impulse with such heated passion—on the forehead. Yep. All of that mental preparation, worrying, and self-bullying for a kiss on the forehead. Just the forehead, nowhere else.

What a fucking waste.

_Fucking chicken-wuss, _Axel scolded himself mentally, settling back into his seat again. _Should'a went for the lips!  
_  
Despite the disappointment with himself, Axel was relieved. He was glad it was over and he was proud that he hadn't abused the situation as much as he could have.

He could have, but he didn't; he was the Axel of Now, not of Yesterday, after all. 

Thinking that made it seem that it wasn't such a waste at all. To Axel it wasn't a waste to begin with; he was a better man for what he had just done. _Changed for the better, _he thought. Becoming, just becoming…__

He just became a new man; he liked what lay behind his reflection. There was no shame in who he was or what he was, and so, he wasn't afraid of who had become.

Smiling on the outside, Axel inwardly congratulated himself. There was something ultimately satisfying about all that had just transpired. He had the taste of victory on his tongue, the song of triumph playing in the back of his mind. __

Self-control is knowing you can, he thought with pride, _but deciding you won't.  
_  
--  
; I own nothing but the words and situations I control, and...  
The quote at the beginning is mine.  
This chapter took a long time to edit. Went through six re-writes.  
Sorry about update-lack. Life is busy. School, friends, and work are important.   
MOST IMPORTANT: I am in love. Most of everything in this chapter is from my own love experience.  
In November I am writing a 50 000-word novel in 30 days. Expect no updates until 2007.  
Thx for reading. Thx for reviews.  
I love all my reviewers!   
Stay faithful.  
See you next time. :-)  
Love to you all and stay friendly.  
TBC__

__

.__


	5. Chapter 5

"**The love you can't have  
lasts the longest, feels the strongest  
and hurts the most."  
Yulia**

Axel x Roxas  
TheSacred Somebody  


**HE COULD SMELL** it. A bubbling hot scent of melting cheese, greasy pepperoni, and whatever else that was on Axel's pizza coiled into Roxas' nose. He startled in his sleep, nostrils twitching with the delightful aroma. His gut curdled, and he silenced a groan that dug at the clasps of flesh holding shut his throat.

_Mmm…_

His stomach tangled with hunger, gurgling and bellowing; Axel heard it across the table.

"Roxy-boy, you awake?" he asked. "Hey, Roxas?" He reached across the table and shook the boy by the crook of his arm.

Roxas twisted his face up, battering away Axel's touch. "I'm awake," he said, pallid lids fluttering open.

Axel just about went breathless by the gleam of Roxas' sapphirine eyes twinkled with sleep. He stopped himself from staring and decided to take a sip of his tall 'n' frosty glass of milk.

Damn. Roxas was the death of him. He was so sure of that, he thought that perhaps he should start taking better protective measures.

Yeah, right.

"Have a good sleep?" Axel asked, clenching his straw with his teeth and sucking a sip of dairy juice. "You looked peaceful."

"It was a nice nap." Roxas slumped in his seat, stretching his legs under the table and his arms over his head as he let out a yowl. "Had a strange dream, too."

Axel made an awkward slurp in his drink, as though choking. "Really?" he asked, swallowing painfully. He avoided Roxas' gaze and stared at the carpet outside the booth, memorizing every stitch and clump of lint. Eww. He didn't like that icky shade of puke green intertwined with slashes of brown and faded silver.

_Clash-y, very clash-y_, he thought.

"Yeah…" said Roxas, drinking his sweating Coke without a straw. "You took me to a nightclub, and when some really fast techno music came on, you went out there and raved with red glow sticks. You had lights all around you. You were like a god of music, letting the rhythm possess your body… Everybody had stopped what they were doing just to watch you rave as music swarmed and trembled inside you."

"Wow, that's odd," Axel said, secretly relieved that Roxas knew nothing of his dirty little secret. "I actually do go to nightclubs." His mind went colorful with the images Roxas had poetically provided. He could actually picture himself, garbed in his punk bondage pants and tight fish-net shirt and spiky collar, swinging, popping, and jerking to the techno magic in a spiral of streamed crimson light.

"You rave?"

"Only when the glow sticks are red," he said, clearing his head of his latest rave experience, which hadn't been all that tangible.

Roxas didn't respond. He was still tired, and was considering another nap. He yawned slightly, eyelids dropping lazily as his irises glistened with fatigue. He grunted. "I woke up thinking the food was here."

"Not yet. Obviously."

"I smell it."

"Since we're the only people in here, and since Joe is the only one cooking, the scent carried from the kitchen to your nose," Axel explained.

Roxas dropped his expression a bit, his eyebrows furrowing slightly and lips perking up in a pout.

Axel couldn't resist; he reached across the table and gave Roxas' nose a tweak. "Excellent sniffer, Roxas."

Roxas pulled away from Axel and yawned, blinking away tears. "The Superior said the same thing."

Axel's stomach tangled up. Why would Xemnas have such an interest in his Roxy-boy? _The Main Man must be planning something_, he couldn't help but think with an ill-feeling. He frowned. "I don't like that guy."

Roxas chuckled. "You kind of have to; he's your boss."

"Yeah, I know, but still… Don't get too close to him."

Axel still wouldn't look at Roxas. He couldn't bear to look at him and show that he was secretly getting worried about him. It would just end badly if he let on that he cared too much. God… it was hard. He wanted to show Roxas how much he worried for him by taking him into his arms and holding him close. He wanted to caress his neck and nuzzle his honey-blond spikes, to clutch tightly the delicate warmth of his seraphic boy.

Axel snorted at his strange thread of images.

_Well, that's never gonna happen_, he thought mockingly.

"Heh… Sounds like you're real concerned," said Roxas, scratching his nose and ruffling back an errant spike of wheat. "What's there to worry about? He's our boss. He'll take care of us, right?" Roxas tried to grin at Axel, but it wasn't working. He was tired, though, so he hardly gave an attempt.

Axel grunted. "I just don't care for the guy, all right? Gives me the willies just being around him."

Roxas snorted a laugh. " 'Willies'?" He asked with a teasing up-turn to his question.

Axel rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up. We all have our ways of talking. Heck, you always 'yeah' all the time."

"Yeah…" Roxas nodded – and then cut himself off. Dammit, he _did_ say "yeah" too much… Axel was onto something? He raised an eyebrow at Axel, but decided not to say anything.

_Silence is golden at a time like this_, he thought.

He slouched in his seat and stared at the lights on the ceiling. "Axel, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Roxas turned away from his ceiling studies to glare profoundly.

"Okay, what else?" Axel felt a little trickle of sweat slip down his neck. He silently admitted to himself that Roxas' eyes were beautiful… but, man oh man, were they scary!

"Do you ever wonder if Nobodies exist or not?" Roxas asked, his tongue feeling awkward from the arrangement of his words. He scrunched his face up and tried again. "I mean, don't you think that maybe… Nobodies don't exist at all…?"

Axel eyed him curiously. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying, well…" Roxas clicked his tongue in his mouth, sucking on his teeth for a second while he thought of how to phrase his question. "A Nobody exists because it has no heart right? Well, what if a Nobody still has a heart, than that makes it a non-existent one. Nevertheless, Nobodies are considered non-existent _because _they don't have hearts; what I'm getting at is, what if a Nobody, who already doesn't exist, still has feelings that exist but can't? Would that make a non-existent thing exist as something that already doesn't?"

Axel's face went sallow. His eyes flickered to Roxas' face, worried that he was watching his reaction…He wasn't. Roxy-boy was intently wondering about the details of the ceiling tiles.

Thank God.

Axel reached behind his hair, underneath his bevy of crimson spikes, and massaged a group of heat-bumps. He sighed. Again he looked at Roxas, pretty and wonderful when deep in thought. Those deadly beautiful eyes of his were tamed with the going-ons behind them. His mouth was slack and his nose was tilted upwards, along with the upward slant of his lovely chin….

Axel found Roxas' angelic visage to be even more captivating than before. Roxas, deep in thought, was an image that made Axel's chest sear with cool heat.

He let out a heavy sigh that sounded more like a gasp for air. "Hmm… You know, I was thinking something like that. But, um…" He cleared his throat. "We exist as Nobody's because we don't have hearts. We don't exist technically, because we exist as Nobodies; I guess that much is true."

Roxas whimpered slightly and breathed in deeply, slowly. "Don't think of this weird, but…"

"Hmm?" Axel blinked to show his attention. For once Roxas actually looked at him, and Axel almost swallowed his tongue. "Don't worry. Nothing's weirder than the stuff I've been thinking, man. No worries there." He laughed a little nervously, and decided to not push any more conversation on his part. He let Roxas continue.

"I've been thinkin' a lot lately. Maybe… I'm not a Nobody," said Roxas. "Maybe I'm something else."

"Huh…" Axel's eyes gazed at Roxas' lips, and suddenly a thought pinged his mind: KISS HIM.

_Oh great…Now I'm having regrets; I should've gone for the lips! _

He shoved those guilty thoughts away, trying to think of something to say. He was afraid that if he started thinking, he wouldn't be able to stop, get too far ahead of himself, and he might do something stupid-er.

He swore to himself not to think so much about Roxas, determined to keep his mind in the present.

He thought_, Right… keep to the moment. Don't look forward._

Axel groaned. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the cool table. "Oh boy. We're getting deep into stuff we shouldn't."

A flaming scarlet shrubbery, burning a hole through the table and speeding like mad, violently affronted Roxas' eyes.

Axel's natural hair color was deliciously red, a ripe apple for the picking, with its tender blush of violet at the roots, and a shade of crimson lifting and lightening the tips. Roxas felt the longing to run his fingers through the locks of red, but he willfully restrained himself.

He'd never felt this way before… he was so sure he couldn't. It was impossible. That's what he told himself, and clearly, that was the way things had to be.

But were they that way? Were they honestly going to adhere to the respective rules of existence? Well, considering Roxas was obviously feeling when he shouldn't proved that rules weren't in application anymore.

How bad was that? Very.

Roxas mentally slapped himself for thinking far too much on petting Axel's apple-bushel red hair. Oohh… he hated it when he thought too much, on anything really! He wasn't going to fall prey to his own mind! No siree!

The thing was, Axel haunted Roxas' mind and dreams, despite having just met him yesterday. Of course, it was a big first impression. It was big enough it left an emotional imprint on the void thriving inside Roxas. But that impression… it burned him. It burned him inside, and not just on the outer lines of his sanity or well-being, but in the unadulterated recesses of his busy, coursing mind.

Right now, Axel was on Roxas' mind, although he denied it. "Ahh, well," he said. "It was just a thought."

"Careful on what you think, dude." Axel mumbled from the table surface. "The more you think about something, the more likely it's going to happen."

"Oh really?" Roxas wasn't actually interested. He was just being rhetorical.

"Ya really." Axel picked his head up. There was a waxy shiny spot on his forehead from where he had lain his head. "It's called the Law of Attraction, a very scientific principle."

"Yeah, right." Roxas was no believer of metaphysics.

"No seriously!" Axel protested. His eyes bulged out of their sockets with the severity of his voice, and Roxas just about giggled at the expression Axel had painted on his face. "Ever noticed how you think about all the happy things in your life, and BOOM! More happy things, right?"

Roxas merely stared, his face saying, _What the hell are you babbling about?_

"Well, you bring into your life the things you think about the most. The more you think about it, the more it occurs and more the affect it has on you," Axel explained. He was seriously thinking of taking a napkin from the dispenser next to him and drawing a diagram or graph or something, but he had no idea or reason for visual aids. "If you think bad, that's what you get. What you focus on, you attract… You're responsible for the sort of life you're living right now. It's all from the accumulated thoughts you've had over the course of your life. Since your life, I estimate, hasn't been all that long as a Nobody, I'd say your attracted reality is pretty fresh."

Roxas kept staring about three minutes after Axel stopped talking. He finally said his piece, "Dude, there's a lot of metaphysics in that."

"That's my point. Metaphysics effect our lives, whether we believe it or not."

"I don't believe it."

"It sure believes in you, man. Just look at the life you live." Axel made a huge, wide-world-look-at-this gesture, stretching his arms out to the sides. "Ever since you started thinking, 'oh, look, I like this. This is better than before,' it's been better, and it stayed that way."

"So?" Roxas snapped. "It could have happened to anyone."

"No, it couldn't have, and you know it."

"Whatever," Roxas said, somewhat irritated by Axel's nonsense. He waved the truth aside, glowering heavily at his straw wrapper crumpled up in a tight little ball at the edge of the salt shaker. "I'm too hungry to think about this."

Axel sighed in defeat. "Oh well. I tried."

Roxas made a slight mumble, and then folded his arms on the table. He cocked forward and nestled his chin in the folds of his elbows. He let his eyelids get heavy, let his breathing slow and grow relaxed…

The table jumped up; the ground thumped. Roxas popped up from his on-coming sleep, eyes flashing wild and wide in the moment of extremity. He looked frantically about – what, were his instincts going haywire? – and… he pouted. Furiously.

His eyebrows slanted forward into a fierce inclination. "It's you," he said, tone dripping ice.

"Indeedy-deed, Princess," said their waiter, Joe, who had finally arrived with their food. "I couldn't help it; you looked so precious."

Axel's face twisted up sourly. His eyes threatened to become black holes as they turned dark and squinty with malice. He indulged in the pain pulsating in his chest, and he knew what sort of emotion it would have been, had he a heart.

Jealousy. Pure, unbridled jealousy.

How dare Joe say something that was obviously going to set Axel off like a firecracker! The little retard _knew_ Axel was a defensive, possessive bastard. Why the hell would he spur that on?

Axel didn't like it. Not one bit.

There was something going on behind the cocky smirk of his long-time friend, and yet… he couldn't pin a point on its head.

Frustrated and sort of bristling up, Axel said, "Yeah, he's cute, but don't make a move closer. He bites… and he draws blood."

Both Roxas and Joe gave Axel the strangest, alienated look. "What the hell's up your ass?" asked Joe, getting an ugly facial with snark.

Roxas snorted into the hem of his shirt's neckline. He squeezed his eyes shut and giggled in partial silence, hoping no-one would notice him.

"And what's up with Sparkles here? Havin' an allergic reaction from too much eyeliner?" Joe thought that was REAL clever… He showed it with another smirk. "Gee, Princess, you better cut down on the Goth. It doesn't suit you a bit, your Highness!"

"Oh cut it out!" Roxas snapped. He flung himself up straight in his seat and snarled, "Shut up and feed me, ass-fuck."

Joe jolted his face. His smirk was shot clean off. He shrugged. "Well," he said, reaching to pick up the order from the table behind him he had set it on. "your wish my command!"

Axel rubbed the sides of his eyelids and shook his head. He couldn't take this much longer; Joe was just being immature, and Roxas was being a bit of a potty mouth. He knew it was not like them to act this way. Both out-of-character, really. For one thing, he knew Joe was a pretty nice guy, and Roxas was a pretty clean boy.

What was wrong with these people? Couldn't they just get along?

"Should I get a bib for you, Princess?"

"Kill yourself!"

Apparently not. They both rubbed each other in the wrong way. They had a way of getting on each other's nerves, and they were starting to trod on Axel's last.

He sighed out of aggravation. _Man, this is not the way to get my attention_.

A tumult upsurged from the rivalry, chopping into the peace of the empty restaurant with booming insults and grandiose puffed-up scare tactics. The ruckus banged brutally against Axel's peace of mind, and it shattered his reserve.

Short of snatching up both men in his arms and shaking them lifeless, Axel blew out a loud breath, seizing their attention with a bestial snarl. The silence came abrupt, and the rowdy antagonists hushed in fearful quiet. They stared into the abyss of Axel's eyes, his glare promising an excruciatingly painful death by scream therapy. Roxas and Joe quickly apologized and shook hands for a truce.

Finally, Joe started bringing out the chow.

"All right," he said. "Here's yours."

He picked up a large platter with a steaming, boiling-fresh Super Supreme pizza pie. The toppings were hidden under piles of toppings and more toppings. There were so many various objects protruding out of the cheese Roxas couldn't tell what, if any of it, was edible. Apparently everything was edible, even if it was bleeding with red sauce.

Axel's eyes swelled with the scrumptious sight of the feast being set before him.

Joe chuckled at Axel's ridiculous expression. "Hah! Happens everytime." He plucked the next item of the table and carefully placed it in front of Roxas.

Roxas practically came in his pants from the sight of the food before him. Piles of thick, long french fries were slopped in blankets of gooey, golden cheese. Gems of sausage and a few reeds of onion were spotted in the sea of cheddar. Roxas' mouth filled with the juices of starvation as he ogled his glorious meal. The smell was scrumptious, and he couldn't place the taste he was smelling… something luxurious, between a blissfully greasy heaven and a cholesterol hell.

Joe was proud of himself. "Thank you. I'm glad to be at your service," he said. He bowed out and away from his customers, slinking away into the darkness of the kitchen once more. The darkness behind him seemed a tad unnatural.

No-one said it, but they both thought it: Joe was creepy.

With creepy Joe gone away into darkness, Axel slapped his hands together in anticipation. "Well, let's dig in!" He grabbed a sloppy slice of toppings, cheese, and hot sauce. Strings of mozzarella pulled from the corners of the slice to the platter, to Axel's bottom lip as he took the first bite. His mouth exploded with favor and his eyes rolled backwards.

Roxas hadn't touched a single fry. He watched, mesmerized, by Axel's hunger and lust for Italian cuisine. He felt a suspicious longing in the pit of his belly, which wasn't growling with greed, a longing that made him wish Axel was licking at him, instead of the tasty grease on his rosy finger tips. He looked at the way Axel's lips moved with the consumption of the pizza slice, bobbing tantalizingly in invitation that made Roxas want something other than chili cheese fries…

He was afraid to admit, but the truth was loading up against him:

He wanted Axel. BADLY.

As bad as the truth was, Roxas was becoming all too familiar to the longing and lusting he was starting to feel towards his newly-found comrade. Despite the truth, as horribly trite and clichéd as it was, he wondered what Axel's statue-like body would taste like, all covered in hot sauce and chili…

Roxas' face betrayed his growing lust, but he was helpless to conceal it. It was very rare, hardly possible, for a Nobody to feel longing and desire; Roxas was taking the advantage for himself by soaking up the moment, a moment that actually included some of the most absurd thinking he had done in days.

Axel stopped eating all of a sudden. Roxas' gaze, although flattering, was making him worry. And dammit! He didn't want to worry when it was practically impossible to do so… or was it? Axel didn't know anymore, and at this point he no longer cared.

"Roxas?" He asked, slurping a cheese-string at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry, but you can't eat me when you have a perfectly untouched order of Chili Cheese fries."

Roxas blinked, startled. He remembered that he had lungs and that he needed to use them. "Oh." He gasped lightly, feeling dizzy and light-brained. "Mmmph… I just can't believe you're going to eat all of that by yourself."

"Ahh, I never do. At any rate, we'll just bring Demyx home a little treat in a doggy bag." Axel laughed at the mental image of Demyx on his knees, sitting pretty like a trained poodle, with a collar and barking. Hee hee… he was going to do just that. Wouldn't Demyx be so happy to get payment for his deed of helping the boys get out of the Castle? Sure. Everyone loves a reward for deeds well done…

Roxas avoided experiencing another scene of Axel eating pizza by practicing his come-hither looks at his puddle of chunky, speckled cheesy fries. They smelled wonderfully fresh and obviously homemade, peppered with nameless spices and dashed with whatever else made it supposingly very tasty.

Finally, and rather sadly, deciding that Axel wasn't going to offer himself up as an All-You-Can-Eat buffet on the first date (was this a date? Roxas couldn't decide on that either!), Roxas plucked a cheese-and-chili-coated fry from the delicious mess awaiting consumption.

He took a single bite, and before he knew it all the fries were gone within seconds. "Damn," he said, wiping Chili from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. Some sauce smeared on his wristband. "That was good!"

Axel chortled. "Hah, I knew you'd like it." He was only one-third of the way done with his. "Wanna help me eat mine?"

"Eat your what? I'll eat anything you give me."

There was an awkward silence. Axel's male brain had kicked into dirty overdrive that had him getting excited for no good reason. Actually, since it was Roxas, it _was_ a good reason...

Roxas watched the change take place on Axel's smile and his face suddenly flared up. He put a hand to his forehead, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

Axel stared at him curiously. "Well, if you put it that way…" His eyes rolled to the ceiling… his mind wondered…

_What could Roxas eat for me? Oooh, have I got a surprise for him! _He chuckled lecherously, thinking about the weather down South.

Roxas glared. "That's not what I meant!" He was red-hot in the face. He randomly shoved a piece of pizza in his mouth to shut himself up from further idiotic drivel. He sat there, unflinchingly glaring, until the roof of his mouth started stinging. Then it started burning. Then… it was painful!

His eyes watered up and he started opening and closing his mouth to get rid of the spicy sensation searing his tongue. "Ahhh ahh! Hawff hawwff hawf!" He garbled with a mouth full of spicy Super Supreme.

Axel was in stitches. He was literally holding his sides and crying with the pain of his laughter. "Oh my god! Even I can't shove a whole slice!" he spat between convulsions and muscle spasms of happy. He controlled himself after some time, and saw that Roxas looked to be in some sort of pain.

His gleeful expression dropped dramatically. The color died from his expression. "Oh my god," he said again, a little less with the laughing and more with the concern.

Roxas' face was completely tomato red and his eyes were blood-shot. He was panting and crying. He was absolutely helpless.

"Roxas!"

Roxas forced himself to swallow the demonic pizza, and gasped out in suffering once it was down. It flamed his tissues until in disappeared off the internal radar once it hit the opening of the stomach. His mouth was still on fire and his tongue was threatening to turn to ash. Tears streamed down his cheeks. His eyes were angry, frustrated, and anguished. Making fanning motions to his throat, he guzzled his Coke, but the spice-fire still raged in his throat, in his mouth, and on his lips.

Axel was panicking. "Here here here!" He flapped his hands at Roxas and shoved his milk across the table, holding it in front of him. "Drink this!"

Roxas clumsily accepted the dairy offering and dumped it into his mouth. Relief spilled over him in an instant. The cold milk extinguished the irritated fires of the spicy Super from hell. He was drinking it in steady streams, letting the cool put out the heat.

"There we go," said Axel. He started to relax. "Good boy… Drink until you can't feel it burning."

Roxas did just that. The glass of milk was about two-thirds empty. He set it down with a huge sigh of relief and pleasure, smacking his lips and wiping away his tears with his thumb.

"Good boy… Milk is the best drink for spicy appetites."

Roxas merely nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry I was picking on you." Axel looked down at his pizza and had the limp thought he would never eat it again. He couldn't believe that Roxas suffered so much from one slice of the demon.

Well, then again, considering what was on that pizza, it was bound to happen… but nonetheless, Axel was pretty sure he should feel wholly rotten right about now. So, he tried to muster up feeling rotten as he apologized, "I'm sorry. What else can I say?"

"It's…okay…" Roxas replied slowly. "I swear, I'll never eat anything spicy as long as I live!"

"Nah, don't say that, bud," said Axel. He took back his milk, smiling at the remaining dairy drink. "I might take you out to dinner sometime for Buffalo wings."

Roxas snatched the milk back and slurped a huge gulp. "Is that an offer?" He licked his milk mustache away, gratefully tasting something other than painful Capsicum.

Axel skittishly glanced away, shrugged, and stuffed his face with pizza in silence.

Roxas twitched his shoulders in an indecisive way. He was kind of hoped it was an offer, though.

He had the daydream of sitting in a romantic restaurant, eating some dead-fancy unpronounceable French cuisine by the tenderly glowing light from candles, chatting with Axel… _The charming red-head in a snappy tuxedo smiles and reaches across the silky cream table cloth, holding his hand, running his thumb across the front of his palm; Roxas looks away and blushes prettily, obviously happy and outshining the candle light by the glow of being loved unconditional_…

He blinked back to reality, and nearly sighed aloud. What the hell was he thinking? Romantic dinner? Candlelight? Tuxedos? With a _man_? Dude, Roxas was getting weird around Axel, and that was the only explanation!

_Dammit_.

Roxas didn't like feeling so trapped inside his own head. He had so many thoughts, and yet he couldn't express them in any way without creeping Axel out. Especially the sudden wanting to hold his hand and wipe away the smudge of sauce from the corner of his mouth… So innocent, but Roxas knew the truth. Hah. Axel? Innocent? Roxas would pay good munny to see that…

But then he couldn't help but wonder if he himself was innocent. Was there anything to make him question that? Not really. Nothing he could think of, actually. But that didn't make it true!

Was he as much of a good boy as Axel kept saying he was? Roxas had always thought he was one of the uppercrusts when it came to being a bad boy, or at least a boy with survival skills. Huh…. Yeah, he was a good boy. He was predicable, docile, absolutely plain and perfectly boring.

Roxas scrunched up his expression; he didn't like that. All of that meant he was boring, and that was something he hated. _Boring_. He hated that with as much hate as he could, even if he couldn't!

Axel was watching the show take place in Roxas' ever-changing flavorful expression. Something deep was going on inside the boy, something incredibly pressing and bothersome that would give him no end to distress.

"You're thinking too deeply," said Axel, picking up a stray black olive and popping it in his cheek along with his last bite of pizza crust on what was perhaps his seventh slice. "You're expression is fidgeting."

Roxas didn't seem to hear Axel's comment.

_Boring? Am I really all that… ordinary?_ His thoughts were tormenting him savagely, and he was starting to see why people lost their minds: they thought too much. Obviously it was his turn to drive himself insane.

Excessive thoughts flooded him. He couldn't process all of them at once. Some thoughts were random tid-bits, things that included savoring the flavor of cold milk and cursing Mexicans for their nearly-religious use of jalapenos. His other thoughts… were slightly more dangerous.

He didn't appreciate how certain thoughts deserved ample emotion. He couldn't provide ample emotion, so why was his own emptiness demanding that of him? He couldn't answer that; he wasn't sure if he should, but he was doing his best to avoid an answer all together.

"Roxas, what's wrong?" Axel asked. His eyebrow was arched, and Roxas focused on that one detail to ground him back to the earth.

He shook his head. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"You're thinking too much."

"Gee, thanks for noticing." Roxas shut himself up with that.

_Woah… bitterness much? Where'd that come from? I don't like that one bit. _

He drank from Axel's glass without pardon. "Sorry."

Axel's turn for his expression to jolt. His lively green eyes were fierce with what could have been concern, a lesser degree than that shown when Roxas was about to die from the ultra-spice of the Super. "Dude, you need to seriously chill."

"I'm trying," said Roxas. His voice sounded of on-coming defeat. He was not even convincing to himself, that's how bad he sucked. "I just can't stop thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

Roxas' lip trembled. His sucked on his tongue, wishing he could swallow it just so that he wouldn't suddenly find himself declaring undying love to Axel, an undying love that didn't—could not have possibly—exist for a person who was non-existent as well.

He wanted to answer Axel, wanted to tell him that he was thinking about him. Thinking about him all the time now, it seemed. He couldn't stop himself from admitting the truth, but he was going to keep it a secret as long as it would remain as such.

"Thinking about going to the bathroom," Roxas finally answered.

"Bathroom?" Axel repeated, tone implying that he didn't believe that Roxas could have that much emotional conflict about using the commode. He knew he was right, but he was going to keep his mouth shut so that Roxas could have his peace. "It's over there, second door on the right down the hall. Can't miss it. Has a little sign that says 'Boys' with a cute little stick figure… If it has a bow on its head, you've gone too far."

Roxas tried to hide the fact that he didn't expect Axel to believe him. "Oh. Thanks." He got out of his seat. He had a nagging sense that Axel knew he was lying, but he chose not to acknowledge it. Stagnant silence shoved itself between the moment that Roxas stood up, Axel watching his every move, every flick.

He truly regretted lying to Axel. Truly. If he would, if he could have, felt remorse. He had the instinct that perhaps, he should reward Axel for his kindness, understanding. Sure, he wasn't expecting much from a fellow Nobody, but he knew Axel was as considerate as they come.

"By the way," Roxas gently touched his thumb to Axel's chin. "You've got a smudge right…here." He wiped it away for him. His thumb lingered, almost like it were a sponge absorbing all of Axel's breath and warmth.

Axel couldn't believe that Roxas was coming on to him, to put it bluntly. Roxas was giving him a look that said more than anything Roxas had said all day long. It was a look of suffering, long-time need, and surfacing want that was starting to take him over. He understood the confusion swirling in Roxas' mind, and he knew that someday they would be together. Just as soon as the both of them settle their issues, with the world, themselves, and each other.

When he noticed that his self-control was about to give, before he gave in to the impulse of sitting in Axel's lap, Roxas let go of Axel and walked away without another word.

**AXEL COULDN'T BELIEVE **it. He was about to burst from his joyous inner giggle-fitting. From what it seemed, Roxas was warming up to him! He was falling for him… was he? Axel liked to think that Roxas needed more time to be sure of his partially-existing emotion. There wasn't a whole lot of evidence towards it but there was some.

Roxas was apparently brainwashed and scrambled by Xemnas strong-scented philosophy on Nobodies when it came to emotions and hearts. He had yet to see that what he was thinking about, when it went down to the roots of feeling, he was on to something, and that something was right.

Roxas was questioning his existence. He was starting to have feelings he was told he wasn't supposed to have.

Axel smiled to himself as he drank the rest of his milk. _He's learning. He'll figure it out eventually. _

He had belief. Axel believed that Roxas would come around eventually, and when he did, Axel could state for the world "ITYS" – or, "I told you so."

With that, Axel sat around waiting for Roxas. True, he could have gone in with Roxas to the boys' room, but he felt that Roxas needed a little privacy to sort out his thoughts without his interference and flirting.

**COLD WATER TO** clear the mind, Roxas splashed it on his burning cheeks. When it wasn't enough he shoved his whole face into the sink full of water, opened his eyes and blew out of his mouth until he was on his last breath. Before he suffocated he resurfaced and breathed, flaxen hair flattened to his forehead and dripping in long, running threads of sink water. His heated face had cooled down. He could finally get a handle on his roaming conscience which had already begun badgering him.

_I'm not myself. I'm not anyone, but why? Why does it have to happen to me? It shouldn't have ever happen. It's not true…_

What isn't true, he could hear a little voice in the back of his mind ask him. Really – what needed so much denial?

_Emotion, I have no emotion._

Emotion, when it came to a Nobody, should've existed at all. He desperately tried to convince himself of that somewhat-defined truth… It couldn't exist yet, here it was.

It was obviously there, and it bothered Roxas endlessly. In only one day of knowing Axel and he was already proving to be the worse kind of a good bad thing. He was a wonderful thing in the worst of ways.

_It's not real. I don't believe it. It can't, so it isn't._

He wasn't convincing himself. He sucked at persuasion. He was failing his own confidence speech to himself, and he was just going to give up. It was all he could do.

But did this defeat include the acceptance of the horrific, beautiful, terribly wondrous hurt searing inside? That brave, rebellious Something that defied the laws of logic and existence? He wasn't going to give in to that. Not yet. It was too early for the discovery of what was behind his empty assumptions.

_I feel nothing. I feel nothing, I have nothing for Axel! _

The persuasion, the denial, the struggle. None of it was working. The more he fought, the more he was getting butchered by the nagging of the Something inside him that was begging for him to accept, to receive, to give himself over to the wonderful thing he was harboring.

Accept it… If he did, what would happen? What would become of the world around him?

Roxas splashed more water on his face; his thoughts were becoming too much to handle. He couldn't give in. He just couldn't… It would break reality as he knew it, which wasn't all that strong of a knowledge to begin with. Reality was a steadfast, fragile thing. So many things could threaten its own existence… just like those feelings, that phrase –

He was unsure of that now. Something, not the same one but something else, was urging him to succumb. It urged him towards defeat.

You'll feel better. You'll be yourself, who you are, and who you're destined to be.

Part of him wanted to be in love more than anything. It wanted to hate, to sob, to explode and be genuinely happy – it wanted any sort of emotion. The other part of him, the disciplined good boy who had been groomed by Xemnas to be the perfect soldier Nobody, said that he could not love, could not hate, and could not cry for any other reason but a bodily response to environmental stimuli.

No, no. Don't believe it. It can't be. It never was; it never will be.

He wanted love, but he refused to admit it. He had love, but it wasn't real. It could be real, he liked to think, but there was no possible way … well, there wasn't concrete proof that it couldn't be real either…

What could he trust? That love could spring, so early, so impossibly, from non-existence? Or that he was damned to being heartless, emotionless, and damned to love without love.

Roxas sighed. _This isn't going well._

Truly, it wasn't.

--

;I own nothing but the words and situations I control. (I also own Joe Steele, and that's it.)  
Sorry it took some time to get this chapter out.  
I didn't edit as much as the last chapter; there were no rewrites for this one.  
I don't care for this chapter much, but I did it for my readers! Huzzah!!.  
Tell me if I lived up to my earlier chapters.  
I'm having doubts if I can continue to win against myself in the game of "That's good. Can you beat this?" with every new chapter. Oo;;  
It's getting harder and harder to write this fanfiction… no, I'm not going to give up.  
If I ever do, I'll personally send all of my reviewers a message if fate becomes of such.  
Anyway – See you next installment!  
TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**"The most authentic thing about us is  
our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure,  
to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering."  
-- Ben Okri**

**Axel x Roxas  
The Sacred Somebody**

**"NO, NO, NO**! A thousand times, NO!"

"Aww, come on, Axel!"

"Screw it," Axel snarled, packing his pizza in a styrofoam go box. His fingers tightly gripped the lid; he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. "I'm not coming back."

Joe's face morphed with desperate panic. "Axel! You gotta come back with me!"

"Says who? You can't make me." Axel crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, eyes shrinking with raw indifference. He narrowed his eyebrows and felt the heat of a partially-formed anger burning a hole through his chest.

It was normal for Axel to feel pain when he should be feeling an emotion of some sort, so this burning was something he sickeningly looked forward to when anger struck him fast. Being a hot-head, anger was an everyday thing; so was pain.

"Dammit!" Joe spat, slamming his fist on the table. "The Boss wants you back. You were on of the best, Mac, and they seriously need some hard-core muscle for the next big mission." His expression seemed more frustrated than angry, more stressed and pained then anything else. He was a desperate man in a desperate situation -- if he didn't bring back Ace, his life and those of his loved ones were in danger.

He gritted his teeth as his mind went to his wife and baby daughter. Being in a gang had always been good for him, but never those closest to him. He loved his wife and child dearly, but The Boss had told him if he didn't bring them back, they were as good as dead.

Joe needed Axel to cooperate. If not for him, than for his family.

"Fuck it," Axel snapped, tone sharp and thin like a bullwhip. "Fuck the mission, fuck the boss, and FUCK YOU!"

Joe had nothing to say. His expression was lifeless, eyes cold and empty like a winter wasteland. He leaned back against the seat, sighing. He looked away from Axel, down to the floor. He swallowed a lump of spit, his heart feeling full of holes and his stomach full of knots. In utter shock, he sat there just breathing and trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

Axel's flared rebellion didn't stop him from noticing that Joe didn't look so good. He was kind of pale and looking like he was about to hurl. He was going to worry, but he stopped himself dead. He twisted his lower-lip with resolve, and he flung himself from the booth, standing up and waiting against the wall.

He couldn't take it.

He was not going to be forced back into the Icarians, no matter what they said or did. He had left that in his past -- it was going to stay there, too. There was no need to bring back the death and regret that reeked from his memories of the city, of the people and their crimes. He just wouldn't do it again, even for an old friend.

Axel closed his eyes as his face screwed up with the painful situation he found himself in.

**HE WAS GOING** to tell him. Roxas was going insane from the thoughts abusing him thoroughly. He couldn't deal with it anymore. He was going to break, going to break, break. Break, break, break.

BROKEN.

A sudden heat erupted from Roxas' lungs, tearing up through his chest and sucking out all his oxygen. He clenched his heart as pain rushed into him, filling him up and flushing out all other sensation.

"Aggghhh!" He screamed lowly, trying to keep his voice down. He braced himself on the sink, as the fever overcame him. An intensely unforgiving headache blistered his skull, as the agony flogged his every nerve. "Errggh... Dammit..."

The heat ripped through him, gutting him until he barely stood on two legs. As quickly as it came, the pain zapped away in one second.

There was peace, a silence of the literal mind and body.

Roxas, still braced against the bathroom sink, panted heavily, sweating copiously. His mind was purged of all thoughts of Axel, but he knew what had happened.

When he admitted to himself what he feared the most, it hurt. His pride, his mind, his body--all were flung into a state of truth and retribution as he broke the laws of existence by merely acknowledging something that shouldn't be, but was.

It was real; the pain had showed him that.

Roxas hated it, as much as he could withstand the agony starting to rise in lungs. If there was anything Roxas found to particularly annoying as a Nobody, it was the fact that his body would suffer physical pain anytime he needed to feel emotion. When the situation called for any emotion, his body naturally reacted by inflicting pain proportional to the amount of feeling he was needing at that moment.

Now, as he thought about the most powerful emotion, the suffering came again. His every nerve fizzled with electric pulses going haywire--his heart raced painfully in his throat at an illegal speed that would kill him if it sustained--his breathing was sharp and erratic, his vision blurring with tears as he tried to absorb as much hurt as possible.

He couldn't take it much longer. He closed his eyes, wanting to cry out from the pain of the finality of love growing in his inner emptiness.

AXEL NERVOUSLY WAITED around, checking his watch as he began to grown impatient. "Come ooooon, Roxy-boy, hurry up with that business of yours so we can get the hell out of here," he muttered to himself.

He cast a fevered glance at the hallway, his heart giving him a jolt. There was a rumbling of sound coming from the bathroom, a tiger were hollering from its cage from hunger.

His eyes narrowed... "Do you have feral cats here?" Maybe the yowling was coming from cats, either giving birth or mating. He opted for the first one, but figured it was his last option.

Joe was sitting down at the booth, leaning forward. He rested his arms on the table, holding his face in his hands as his fingers threaded through his ginger-red hair spikes. "Nope. Nothing lives in the wild in this part of the city. It's too dirty for anything to live here."

"Huh... you hear that?" A particularly thunderous yelp squealed and strangled out into the dining area.

"Hmm…" Joe didn't recognize it. He never had any problems with pests before, so why would rats or whatever other vermin suddenly infest his restaurant now? He rubbed his palms on his cheeks. "Damn. This just isn't my day." He was seriously considering suicide, but he knew that would be a bit much.

"Yeah," Axel said, still staring at the hallway. His mind wasn't on the sound itself so much as it was on what was making it. He knew what it was, he was sure of it.

_I guess he knows_, he thought. _It hurts to love when you can't, but you do anyway_.

There wasn't anything he could do for Roxas; he already went through the same pain, but, again, there was nothing any one could do. It's something only they can do by themselves. They would just have to wait it out… His mind put images of Roxas in anguish, clenching his chest and slumping down the bathroom wall, near to passing out and almost crying.

Axel stood fast at remaining. His chest was stinging with the desire to check on Roxas. Something was telling him Roxas was in danger, but he didn't believe it. He would give Roxas a few more minutes, and then he would check on him. He was not going to be a silver knight charging to save his princess, as much as he wanted to.

The Princess would have to save herself.

**IT WAS OVER**. The pain, the finality of non-existent emotion passed through him with a sigh, as he lay there, prostate on the bathroom title. Roxas' eyes were blank; he saw nothing. His lungs burned from the loss of oxygen; he wasn't breathing. He couldn't feel a thing, but he was aware.

He lay there, curled on his side, holding himself as the final streams of pain seeped from him, lingering within each cell before spreading to the next and slowly trickling from him in a sluggish gait. His breath rose and fell, his body going through the motions of breathing, and yet there was nothing.

This was a state of in between. Literally, life and death on pause, the space in the middle.

His mind went crazy, clicking furiously with images not belonging to him. His mind flashed with bright colors, and suddenly there were the faces of laughing children, some of them his age, maybe a year or so younger; everyone on a beach somewhere, baking in the sun and splashing in the foamy surf; a bloody tangerine sunset, melting across the horizon as the day came to a close; everybody rowing home in little row boats on the gentle, glowing sea...

Roxas felt that these memories weren't his.

His life was always in the city, and as far as he knew there wasn't a beach anywhere close to his home. He had never been to the beach, never felt the golden sand on his toes or the sea on his skin, never saw the cerulean of the sky or the waves crashing on the shore. He had never been to the ocean, and yet... Who were those people? Where was this place?

The memories kept playing like the fragments of a movie all chopped up and sewn back together again.

The scene shifted to a bright, shining day, with glittering shore and spacious sky. A distant part of Roxas was all warm and fuzzy, remembering the heat of the sea breeze and the scent of salt in his nose and coconut lotion on his skin. These memories weren't his, he knew, because he was never there to make them, and yet all of it was like Deja Vu.

"Come on, Sora!" A girl called to him at the front of the pier, standing against the sun and waving. Her body was silhouetted, and her smiling face was covered with soft shadows that made her eyes twinkle.

Everything sped up for a few seconds, as though the video was on fast forward, and the next thing showed him standing on the pier with the girl. She giggled at him and leaned forward, her hands placed behind her back as she smiled.

"You need to know how to be on time."

"Geez, Kairi," Roxas felt himself saying, "Can't you be a little more patient?"

He was right; these weren't his memories. That wasn't his voice, either. None of this belonged to him, and none of it ever would.

A sudden loneliness, which shouldn't have existed much like his other partial feelings, flowed into him. He didn't bother denying the loneliness, so he continued watching the scene without thinking much of it.

"Where's Riku?" Kairi -- Roxas was guessing that was her name -- asked Roxas, who was some kid named Sora.

Who was Sora? Why was Roxas in his body, sharing his memories? Where was this place? What's going on?!

None of this was making any sense!

"He's in the Secret Place. Let's go get him!" Sora, or Roxas, or whoever said, and Kairi simply nodded before the two of them ran off along the golden sand of the beach.

In an instant everything faded to black. There was an absence of everything else, and Roxas didn't know what happened next. He no longer felt anything with his body -- he could no longer use his five senses, but he was still conscience.

His mind clicked, _Who were those people? What just happened?_ He couldn't help it, but find that it all felt familiar. But how? Was it possible that that was his life before his blank ticket in the city?

Why didn't anything make sense? Roxas was dying to know, but he couldn't figure it out. Not enough information, and certainly not enough energy to put into it. He tried to feel his body, still curled on the bathroom floor, but he was traveling through darkness.

Only thought seemed to exist, nothing else.

His mind was trying to figure everything out, but there wasn't much to go with. All Roxas had was the nagging feeling in the back of his brain that he knew those people, when in fact he didn't. How could that even be possible? Roxas wanted answers, but it was like Axel said: Some questions are only meant to be asked. Could these be just like that? Answerless questions?

It was all so hopeless.

Roxas searched for the sensation of his flesh through the dark, trying to call out to it in a way he didn't even understand. Even without his voice, it seemed like he could still find it. He would think to his body, sending out a stream of light, and it would bounce back to him, reflecting in green. He sent a blue light, recieved green.

Green must be his body, blue must be his mind. If he had a heart, what color would it be?

_No time to think about that_, Roxas' mind said for him.

He didn't even feel like himself anymore. His mental voice sounded completely different from what he was used to. He was a spirit, traveling through the channels of creation, in search of a new home. That frightened Roxas! What if the green light was somebody else's body? What if someone had gotten knocked out like Roxas and their spirit was out roaming in the sea of conscience, just like Roxas? Could they switch bodies?

All these questions Roxas didn't want answered. He just wanted to find his body, find Axel, and go back home to the Castle so that he could pretend that none of it had ever happened.

Roxas couldn't tell if his spirit had any sort of manifestation, but somehow he could clearly see the blue beam he sent and the green beam he recieved, both communicating in a way Roxas vaguely understood. He thought himself towards that direction, unsure of any sort of orientation. Everything was relative to him, and yet he couldn't tell what was up and what was down; he just knew he was traveling forward, whichever direction that might have been.

Where he was, literally seemed to be the space in-between. There was nothing but darkness, except for his two guiding lights. He wasn't sure what anything felt like; he couldn't experience this in any way dealing with the five senses, and yet he could still see the light in the darkness.

_None of this makes sense!_ Roxas sent loudly. He heard his own mental voice boom in to existence. Every thought was thought aloud. How the hell was any of the happening?!

_Woah... I can hear myself..._ Roxas tried saying something aloud, but he couldn't feel his voice or his throat. He couldn't move his jaw. _That's right! Duh! I still need to find my body!_

Roxas traveled along towards the green light, holding fast to the hope that that was his body. As he streamed along, there didn't to seem to be any sort of definition of speed. Was he going slow or was this the fastest possible setting? Another thing explained by the theory of relativity?

_Let's go faster,_ Roxas sent to his surroundings, hoping something would listen to him in his distress. There was moment of still, all his movement or the illusion of movement stopped.

Completely still.

Absolutely suspended in space, nothing doing anything.

_Um...Faster? Please, I really need to -- WOAH!_ The darkness around him sped forward so fast, Roxas saw stars tearing into the sides of the tunnel of inky blackness and racing along with him. Then he noticed something: They were orbs of misty light, all going as fast as he was, all of them silver-tailed like comets.

Now the darkness was strewed with swimmers of light, and Roxas was swimming along with them. He felt for them closely, trying to sense them in a way that resembled physical touch, and found them all to be like him -- little souls finding a home.

It was creepy, but Roxas had a sudden stab of freight-- Not only were these souls racing him beside him, they were racing AGAINST him.

They were racing him for his body!

Roxas began panicking, but then thought calmly, What good is that going to do?

Instead of wasting more brainpower on his lousy situation, he focused on sending more messages to the green light of his body. It flickered back at him as rapidly as the messages were recieved, almost flickering like a dying star about to go out.

No other light bounced back as his particular shade of green, but as he traveled along at warp speed, he finally saw that he wasn't the only soul blasting towards home. There were other colors, all of them spanning the brightest rainbows. The souls surrounding him on his journey were rapidly sending towards home, just like him, and home was sending back in beams of red, green, blue, purple, pink, and whatever else.

Soon, all the darkness was flashing with twinkles of rainbow lights. The darkness lay as a blanket across the wide space that went on forever. There were countless sparkles of colored light tossed about. Nearly every inch was covered with speckles of color, and Roxas was astounded at how some of the rocket-souls next him spiraled off at high speeds ahead of him.

They shot towards home like shooting stars across the galaxy, and their home-stars welcomed them by sucking them up, combining as one great white flash, and it was gone. Darkness returned in one spot, and all the other lights continued.

Roxas had never imagined anything so beautiful to exist, but went he thought about it...

_It's just like me. It exists without existing... Something can exist without a physical form, without anything to really prove it's there. Wow..._

That got him thinking about his partial emotions. He technically shouldn't feel anything, but he still did any way. Feelings don't exist anyway because they can't be proven they do... So, Roxas figured he shouldn't worry about being able to love or to hate or anything like that.

He should merely be grateful that he COULD feel, which is something nearly every Nobody would kill for.

Roxas had never seen so much light and darkness coexisting in such a place, though. It was filled with as much light as there was darkness, but nothing was too much and nothing was too little. It was all equal, and there didn't seem to be any danger. Everything was at peace.

What is this place? It seemed a little stupid that Roxas hadn't asked that question before. Was this the place where stars were born? Where souls were created into existence?

_Wait a minute...Am I dead?_

Roxas freaked out for just a second, thinking, _Well that explains me losing my body and all this light._

A little bit of sadness trailed into him as he started thinking about what he had left behind. He didn't want to leave the world he knew so well. Sure, life had dealt him a hard hand to play, but he was just getting the hang of things. People back home actually cared about him, a place for him where he was actually important, where people noticed he was alive...

But, then... What if everything was just a lie? What if the people he cared for -- Demyx, Xemnas, Axel -- what if they didn't care for him like he thought? What if his home in the Castle was only temporary? What if... life he knew it to be was nothing but a sham?

Roxas thought more about it.

_I just wanna go home._

He didn't care if he was useless. He didn't care if Xemnas was going to dispose of him as soon as he got home --

He just wanted to see Axel again, as surprising as it was sudden to think that.

_I don't want to start over,_ he sent loudly. _I just want to go home! I want to live my life back home a little more before I come back. Please... send me home. It's all I've ever really wanted._

The movement towards the green light stopped; all signals died out.

Roxas was floating in space for a handful of moments, wondering what was going on. Suspended in motion, there was nothing he could do but watch as all the colored star-twinkles slowly blinked gone one by one, until darkness swallowed everything.

When all the light was gone, there was only darkness. Only nothingness.

Roxas' spirit wilted. _Now, I'll never go home..._

As soon as he started lamenting, all the way the other direction, across the black space, a new light burst open and sent at Roxas.

_Come home. Come home,_ it echoed steadily in Roxas' mind. The new light was a new color, too. A radiant electric blue called to him.

Roxas sent back, _I'm coming_. His signal was now a fiery orange, brighter than the sun, and it blazed across the darkness in a smear of fire. Roxas picked up speed again and flashed across the space, vibrating happily as he surged forth.

He gained more speed, more speed. Soon he was a blur of white racing to a blue-star, and he spiraled wildly into the center. Roxas felt the elation of a homecoming arriving as he tumbled in a wide circle and sparkled into home. The blue-star sucked up his light and combined their star-shines.

_Home..._

A blast of light and darkness prevailed in the space in-between.

**IT WAS LIKE** slamming into the pavement after falling from eighteen stories, a big crash followed by a large aftershock. Bones rackled into place, guts squelched with a new arrangement; Roxas' body jumped up, arched its back, and snapped all over as his spirit plunged back into it. He writhed as heat warmed his pale, cold flesh. His body trembled as life filled every fiber with a flow of electricity, and he took a huge breath -- a labored gasp of air of life returned.

Roxas' eyes popped open and he sat up straight, clenching his chest as he caught his breath. His vision hadn't regained focus, but he could see he was still in the filthy bathroom of Joe's Pizza Palace and Diner. His forehead was drenched with sweat, and his heart rate pounded out to a dangerous rhythm that made Roxas dizzy as the rest of his body felt jiggled and off-balance. He was feeling light-headed and his brain felt hot and fuzzy. His body was trembling and he shivered from the cold, and then the sudden heat of life.

He tried to get up but he slouched forward, standing on his knees. On his hands and knees he tried to stand, right as the bathroom door swung open and a pair of feet appeared. Before Roxas saw who it was, his vision blacked out, his throat sizzled with steaming vomit as he retched, and he collapsed to the floor once more.

**FLOATING... JUST FLOATING...** Roxas grew slowly aware of his body, and found himself hovering above the ground, surrounded by a comforting warmth that belonged to somebody else. His legs were dangling, but his knees were folded and supported by strong, caring arms wrapping around him. He was crushed against somebody, being held close and protected by them.

His mind whirred viciously, and came up with the conclusion that he was being carried like a treasured porcelain doll. So gently... So careful...

His body felt battered and limp, fighting back a splitting headache. His stomach was still in knots and he wondered if he was going to throw-up again, hoping that he wouldn't because his throat had been scorched by his stomach acid. When he swallowed, tears surged into his eyes from the great discomfort. In this pitiful bodily state every muscle felt quivery, twitching after having been without life for God-knows-how-long. His innards were tumbling around and feeling bubbly, warming up with life energy, having been practically dead for so long.

Even so, despite all the physical pain, Roxas was grateful to have his body back, grateful to be alive. Feeling pain felt so good now. He felt human again and embraced that life was back to normal... sort of.

Seeking comfort and reassurance that everything was real, Roxas cuddled up to the warmth, and heard the pattering of a worried heart-beat pounding in the chest he was cradled against, a heart beating so fast because of him.

But who could possibly be so worried about Roxas? Whose warmth surrounded him so comfortably? It was familiar, this warmth. He knew it from somewhere... His nose caught a familiar scent, too, one that made him think of spice and heat

Who was it?

Roxas weakly moved his head up slightly and his blurry vision wouldn't allow more than a censored face and a head of fire. From what he could see, it was almost like the face of a hero, of a sculpted god.

He let out a light sigh, and suddenly felt sleepy again, thinking he was even more grateful than before; his wish had been granted.

He closed his eyes as he murmured, "Thanks, Axel..."

Sleep came very easily, a blackout.

--  
;I own nothing but the words and situations (and Joey Steele)  
Whew! Sorry for the long-time-no-update!  
I've had a life lately Oo  
I've been working on an original romance novel and dealing with everyday situations.  
When I'm published, I'll be sure to tell you.  
More updates in the future!  
TBC


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